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lucycola · 3 years

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The Lone Survivor; Spock x Fem!Reader

Premise: Fem!Reader accidentally bonds with Spock when rescued from her own starship crash. Hijinks and unbelievable plot points ensue for my own pleasure. Not sure if I’m writing mind melds right but eff it.

WARNINGS: Mentions of bodies and blood. Movie amnesia. Paternal Bones figure to reader. You get the drift. Movie sci-fi healing and medical procedures. It’s StarTrek, what do you expect.

Part 1: There Was Something In Everything About You

You still felt the cold from the tundra below enveloping your body. Your little body shivered under the thermal blanket and a calloused, albeit gentle touch sponged your forehead. Your eyes fluttered open and you half expected your vision to still be clouded with harsh whiteness.

Why? you thought. There’s no snow, Why would there be? You didn’t know where you were.

Soft, faded blue eyes smiled gravely in your blurred line of vision. “Welcome back,” said a weathered voice. “Take it easy now,” it instructed firmly as you moved to sit up right. Your whole body roared in ache, especially in your left leg.

“I’m your doctor, Doctor McCoy,” said the man in blue, his hand moving to your shoulder. A woman, donned in blue as well, hovered behind him with a curious expression. “You’re on the Enterprise.”

Your voice was scratchy at first, but found itself buried in the base of your throat, tumbling out sloppily. “Hello, my doctor, Doctor McCoy.”

He smiled gingerly, “Do you remember what happened?” It was the first of a long line of question that only rendered blank stares and subtle shakings of the head. ”You were found near the wreckage of the starship the U.S.S Calvary.”

No, you didn’t know what happened or what happened to your ship the U.S.S. Calvary.

The name felt like a knife in your chest and you could only give your doctor, Doctor McCoy, and his nurse, Christine Chapel, watery blinks.

Hell. You didn’t even know your own name.

A long series of tests and more questions continued. Your leg had been broken in three places (to which your doctor, Doctor McCoy, had expertly mended shortly after your arrival) and you were suffering from an awful concussion resulting in-

“-acute post traumatic amnesia, Jim,” your doctor’s voice rattled you from a sticky, uncomfortable slumber. “I don’t think you’ll be getting much from her.”

“The crew is still salvaging data from the wreckage. There’s no telling what’s been lost or if we’ll even find out the cause of the wreck,” said the other. “It’s worth a shot.”

A golden man approached you with sunshine behind his expression, and along something a little sad. Like the doctor he interrogated you with similar questions, some a little trickier than earlier. Thought provoking and pressing. Desperation. However, his voice was soft and made you feel welcome.

“If there’s anything you can think of or if you remember something please send for me right away-” the golden man’s brow furrowed, “Still no name, Bones?”

“Not yet.”

“He’s been calling her kitty,” Christine said.

The doctor grumbled, “Well, she’s got big cat eyes. Looks a lot like my Jo.”

“Jo?” you inquired innocently.

“His daughter,” replied the golden man.

You hummed sweetly.

“If you remember anything,” the golden man said in response with his own dazzling smile, “Please. You are the only one.”

The realization hadn’t yet touched you and you only offered a dizzy smile, “Yes, Captain Kirk of the starship Enterprise. I will.”

He exchanged an amused look with his ‘bones’ and turned on his heel to leave.

You still felt cold. The palm of your right hand itched. Neither of the man, blue or gold, were the right one. You could feel a tiny pull in the back of your head. A warm place, away from the tundra or the medbay, both stark white and freezing.

Where was the right one? What an odd thought. What even was the right one? You didn’t even understand your own thoughts. Everything was foggy and heavy. You struggled to be alert, at least of all receptive to everyone’s courtesy. They wanted to know so much and you wanted to help, but you knew nothing. You were an empty cannister of what you used to be.

Except that pull, that sensation in the back of your brain. It was a palm, bigger than your own, waiting for you somewhere on the ship.

“She’s shivering again, Doctor. And crying.”

“Take it easy now, kitty cat,” he said quietly, “This will help you sleep.”

“Yes, Doctor Bones.”

The hypo didn’t help you sleep. You tossed and wracked in a freezing sweat, crying, still stuck in the tundra. Masses of dark, solid ice surrounded you, in bellies of red and pink snow.

You are the only one.

Funny, twisted shapes of dark ice with bulging eyes and gaping mouths.

How? How did you only survive with a broken leg and a bruised head? Luck?

A hand reached out, to you, anchoring onto your right. An angel.

You could hear his own self, humming in the back of your mind - a explosion of foreign presence. He had moved closer and you were pulled from sleep once again.

“...a few of the logs have been retrieved, but have sustained partial damage that can be corrected. A personnel roster has yet to be obtained from the data. It is imperative that such data is retrieved before Starfleet launches an official investigation.”

A warmth enveloped your entire bodily, tingling and washing away the tundra.

“And why is that, Mister Spock?” the captain asked, suspicion lining his inquiry.

“When I came into tactile contact with the survivor I was able to acquire personal information,” the angel replied in turn, “Lieutenant Y/N L/N of the botanical division.”

“L/N,” the captain hummed in assent. The name felt shapeless and empty in your mouth. It was yours, but still didn’t feel like it.

“Anything else?”

“ I was able to retrieve memory fragments from the lieutenant as well. I read large amounts of the human emotions guilt and fear. It can be deducted the lieutenant may have had some indirect involvement with the crash.”

“Why is it crucial to launch our investigation before Starfleet?” the captain asked with a forming smirk .

There was a pregnant pause.

Mister Spock had noticed you finally, sitting up right staring widely at the both of them. The warmth intensified in your right hand. A muted sensation creeped in the back of your mind, barely tasting of curiosity and embarrassment?

You could remember it. The ship. The crew. The ship crashing into the icy tundra below, hundreds of bodies being ripped from the deck and into the sky. You had held on somehow, strapping yourself in right before contact.

You awoke to blistering cold and sharp wind, tangling your hair. You crawled.

Twisting angles of dark, icy shapes dotted the snow like landmarks. White snow. Red snow.

The crew. Four-hundred men crewmen dead.

Your scream was silent, wrenching in anguish. How could this happen?

“...located another crewmember for corpse retrieval.”

You moved to scream again, still silent, croaking in the back of your throat. You reached out.

“I negate my last statement, Captain.”

“Why is that, Mister Spock?”

“She is alive.”

You could only see a blurred version of your savior hovering behind your outstretched limb.

“Do not be afraid,” he had said, hand enclosing around your iced one, red and raw.

You knew him in an instant.

Do not be afraid. The Lord has great favour with thee, whispered in the back of your mind. A loose memory.

Despite the terrible memory you smiled at him now, eyes big with awe and yet still fear.

“T’hy’la,” he said in a sharp tone, almost reprimanding.

The word was foreign to you, but it felt like an insult and your brow creased.

“I must remove myself immediately,” the monotone voice of your savior said almost hastily. His statement felt like a slap in the face.

“Doctor Bones, I want to go back to sleep now.” Your voice was broken, your face buried in your hands. Two sets of hands braces themselves on your wracking body, emitting little sobs.

“Kitty, what’s wrong? Did that hobgoblin upset you?” Bones asked.

Nurse Chapel patted your shoulder, “Now, now, Y/N take some deep breaths. Mister Spock is the one who found you. There’s no need to be scared of him.”

“I want to see Mister Spock,” you said, between each little hiccup, “I need to-”

“Jim, I don’t know what he’s done, but-” Bones began.

“I’ll go...” Kirk looked down at you, befuddled by both of your reactions,”...investigate, Bones. Hold down the fort.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Bones retorted.

“I want to get up now.”

“It’s only been forty-eight hours, Y/N,” Bones replied, residing as his chair across from your bed. “Your tibia, fibula, and femur were all broken. I’m a doctor, not a magician. You can start on crutches tomorrow.”

“I don’t like that.”

“Like what?”

“Y/N,” you stuck out your tongue, “It doesn’t sound right. I liked kitty better.”

He chuckled, “Like I said, we’ll get you walking tomorrow. After the investigation clears we can take you to the nearest starbase and contact your family.”

You frowned, “And leave the ship?”

“That’s the idea,” he replied, “We’ve already been contacted a recovery crew. After they salvage what they can and help us with-” He winced, “With funeral proceedings we can help you along. We’ve got a number of wonderful psychologists on the ship. You can speak to on if you’d like. Might even help you regain some of that memory.”

Anyone who even spent a day on board the Enterprise and partook in any of its zany adventures would need to speak to a therapist. Bones had meant to say ‘body retrieval’, but after seeing you cry many times he had learned to be careful with his words. Poor, poor thing.

“What will happen to my crew? They will have a funeral?”

“I’m sure Starfleet will do something to honor them once the investigation is over.”

“Investigation?”

“Yes,” he treaded carefully, knowing you were already suspect at this point, “A crash like that so unpreceded without...any malfunction is strange. Especially with only one survivor.”

Your brow furrowed, “I know it’s strange, Doctor Bones. I wish I could remember. I remember their faces. And-”

Mister Spock.

“I want to see him.”

It was the fifth time you pressed the issue and Bones internally sighed. “I know. Spock is busy at the moment trying to clear your name and I’ll be busy trying to clear your health. I prescribe no stressful situations or conversations-and trust me, he can be very vexing. Now, it’s time for your dinner.”

You had slept often during your time in the medbay and faking it wasn’t difficult. You had long noticed the nurse working your bed had long dosed at his stations and the others were few, far in-between.

With eyes still softly closed, you in-took an even breath.

I want to see you, you whispered inside.

You felt the warm lull in your right palm intensify, matching the newly occupied space in your mind.

I must know what’s going on. Mister Spock, see me, please, sir.

The warmth grew to an unbearable itch and you figured to follow its meaning. With a gentle form you moved up, careful not to stir the nurse and reached for the crutches.

It was hard to hobble along at first, but you found you way slowly, the warmth in your brain egging you on in the right direction-at least you hoped it was.

The end of that tunnel was waiting for you somewhere-a subside to that itch. A sleek, silver door with a doorbell of sorts. You rang it.

It was waiting for you on the other side.

The door slid open.

He was indeed waiting for you, standing in the middle of his quarters. His his left hand was a little orange bar. Recovered.

“Lieutenant,” he greeted evenly.

“Mister Spock,” you looked at his left hand, “Are you still mad at me?”

“Negative. I believe I was never, as you humans put it, mad at you.”

You didn’t press further. You felt a trembling igniting in your ankles. The thing in back of your mind clutched at the orange tape in his hand. A look. A see.

Guilty, guilty guilty, the thoughts tore anxiously.

“Do you have something you want to show me?” you asked.

He nodded curtly and took long strides with his long, long legs, to the computer and slipped the tape in. “This was only recoverable footage from the Calvary. Unfortunately for your case it happens to also be the most damning. I’ve been working most of the day and night cycle to piece it together.”

The screen spit static to life as it conjured up the Calvary’s bridge and you. You were in what you were found in: your blue uniform dress with long sleeved black fatigues underneath. You suddenly remembered being cold that day-even though you had no reason to be.

Something in your hand was slender and long. A large pipet and you jammed the glass into the neck of your Captain before firing your phaser at another crewmember.

Your brain felt light and frothy and you were caught by a steel grip before making friends with the floor.

“It wasn’t me,” you heard someone say groggily.

Spock steadied his grip, “Explain, Lieutenant, when it is you that the film portrays. His voice felt icy.

“I don’t know how,” you whispered.

It was silent a moment.

“I can look. But it will intensify the bond already at present and in the future that may prove unsatisfactory for you.”

You didn’t understand, offering a furrowed brow, but nodded to give him permission.

With his left arm anchored underneath you, his right hand featherily skimmed the side of your face.

“Our minds...are now one.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Indeed,” he whispered in a strained voice, dipping further into your conscious. “It was not.”

PART TWO

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reynesofcastamere · 4 years

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Pressure Points[β]

(A/N: The prompt I got for this was ‘Maul giving Ahsoka some NSFW stress relief.’ And. Uh...Well, I’m not sure if this is what you wanted, anon. But it’s what you’re getting. ORZ. So yeah, this gets fairly dark. Readmore is going under my notes again. Warnings for: blindfolding, non-negotiated bondage, dubious consent/morals, possessiveness, mentions of past self-abuse(reckless sexual behaviour/masochism) and sensory deprivation. I’m...not certain whether some of Maul’s lines fall under gaslighting or any other form of verbal/emotional abuse, but keep an eye out for those too. Potentially triggering sections have been marked off with ‘****’. This takes place about 2-3 years after ROTS and events are closer to canon (ie Maul is a crime boss but Death Watch and the Nightbrothers aren’t allied with him). Unbeta’d.)

There is tension in her frame as she waits, the strip of black cloth about her eyes her only adornment. Marks cover her, old and new, dappling the sunset colour of her skin with sharp points of red and pools of purple, blue, and yellow. They are not his work, nor do they belong to a single individual. Such a curious creature. Ahsoka Tano is knelt on a large cushion in front of a chair, the very image of powerlessness and debauchery. And yet... “Are these meant to provoke me?” Maul questions, fingertips trailing from the centre of her back and over one shoulder as he circles around her to take his seat. “Or have you come to request my aid in killing those responsible?” The latter seems unlikely, given her limiting morals and considerable skill, though the prospect does intrigue him. “Neither.” She murmurs, voice slightly roughened from strain as he cups her jaw in one hand, slowly tilting it upwards. The blindfold only prevents him from reading her eyes, but there is a wealth of information waiting in the tempo of her breath and heartbeat, the subconscious tells of movement and expression. “Don’t pretend you’re concerned for anything other than your own ego.” The bitter tone to her voice is hardly subtle, though. “If you wished to avoid interrogation, you should have been more patient.” He coaxes her upwards with guided touches until she sits bestride his thighs. “Instead you summon me here, covered in these tokens-” A single fringertip traces a line from her lower abdomen all the way up to the edge of the blindfold. “-and this insulting barrier.” She jerks her head away when he toys with the edge of it, clearly not willing to relinquish whatever ‘safety’ it afforded her. “What am I to do with you, my Lady?” “Don’t. I’m not yours. Not-” Ahsoka trembles as he discards his gloves to touch her properly. His hands stroke her outer thighs, over her backside and up her spine to curve around and palm her breasts. He indulges himself for a few moments, tasting the vulnerable skin that rests above the pulse beating in her neck as the callused pads of his thumbs rub and circle her stiffening peaks. “Reluctance does not become you.” Maul whispers as her hips twitch, hands blindly seeking out the armrests and gripping them tightly, as if to anchor herself. Or perhaps, to have something else to touch besides him. “Evil.” Her reply comes, followed by a sharp cry when he roughly tugs and worries at her nipples with his fingers. He is familiar with this kind of deprivation: How taking away one or all of the senses can increase the body’s reaction to pain. Such knowledge had never been meant for the purposes of pleasure; of making another being pant and writhe, seeking more. The first -and only- time he’d had the satisfaction of seeing her in this state was a far more...rushed affair. Punctuated with savage cacophony, nails and teeth tearing at each other as they were swept into a frenzy of unrestrained lust. There simply hadn’t been the time or inclination to truly explore her. But now... He laughs, soft and brief and cruel. “And you know for a certainty that none of your paramours were thieves, murderers, or worse?” One hand trails downwards, stopping just above her sex. The edge of his thumb just barely teases her engorged nub, drawing out a shaken exhale. “Or am I to believe that you screened every one of their backgrounds personally.” A statement of dry scorn as he observes her internal struggle, seemingly repulsed by and drawn towards him all at once. “It’s not the same. They weren’t-I don’t even have a word for what you are.” Ahsoka retorts, low and tinged with sanctimonious fury. She hisses when he slips a single digit inside her, a frission of genuine discomfort travelling up her spine and into her shoulders. Hm. She is certainly wet enough, so the soreness in her channel cannot be his doing. He will need to prepare her gradually if he wants to achieve much more than this. “Oh, but you do. Say it.” “...Monster.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not even going to try and deny it?” “A waste of my time and an affront to your intelligence.” He hasn’t stopped touching her this whole time, lips ghosting along her throat as his fingers carress her, inside and out. Her hips are rolling in minute increments, her grip on the chair practically white-knuckled at this point. Maul pauses for a few moments to remove his upper garments, pry her hands loose, and place them on his back. Specifically, on the furrows she’d left in his skin over the course of their heated entanglement. ****

“I can’t do this.” She breathes, fingers clenching as the heel of his right palm drags over the bundle of nerves at the apex of her slit. “Mmmn...-haaahh- It’s...it’s wrong.” Her back arches as he re-inserts one digit, then another, still providing the friction that’s causing her to start losing coherency. “An interesting choice of words.” They imply a certain degree of...latitude in her thinking. That it is some form of obstacle preventing her from giving in, rather than a total resistance to what is happening. “What’s that supposed t-ahhhhn-to mean?” Ahsoka demands, before their lips meet. It does not take long for her to melt, moaning as his tongue teases her lower lip, then lightly draws it between his teeth. When he pulls back, it is purely to admire the image of desirous ruin she inspires, flushed and breathing raggedly as she trembles. “Do you not realize how close you are to oblivion?” He curls the digits inside her for emphasis, feeling her jolt at the sensation. She has been attempting to shield herself from him in the Force, but Maul is both relentless and patient, and the conflict in her is simmering so very near to the surface. “If you are so diminished by wanting this from me, leave.” His free hand digs into a set of bruises on her right hip, her hands clenching against his back as her core quivers. “Run back to your masters, secure in your nobility and virtue, but know that the monster you marked will never touch you again. Not unless you beg, Ahsoka Tano.” It is a clear choice. She cannot accuse him of being obscure or unreasonable in his logic or wording. Yet she does not move away or speak. In fact, her jaw is clenched so tightly that one might worry for the state of her teeth. With how...outspoken she usually is, this development is quite odd. He lightly scrapes his teeth over her pulse point as he puzzles it out, circling the fingers still buried inside her. She is visibly struggling now, caught between body and mind as she clings to the last vestiges of self-control. “Ah...” Maul breathes in sudden epiphany. “There it is. You cannot bring yourself to ask for these...perversions.” The stiffening of her posture and the turn of her head is all the answer he needs. “So be it.” He tears a strip of cloth from his shirt, using one hand and some assistance from the Dark Side to tie her wrists behind her back. “I will ignore your sorrow, your guilt, your shame, and you will have the comforting illusion that this is not your choice.” He bites down on her throat as she comes apart, voice and Force signature finally released from their self-imposed restraints. The chaos in her is so exquisite that he cannot resist being overtaken, keening and snarling into his own climax.

****

There are long moments spent between regaining breath and sense of self, but she does not object when he changes their positions and spends a full hour pleasuring her with a clever mouth and dextrous hands; her releases bestowed as gentle gifts. Nor does she protest once he bears her down onto the floor and claims her again and again, their mutual cries filling the enclosed space with each brutal thrust. Maul is merciless as Ahsoka pleads for him to slow down, that he’s splitting her apart, and she can’t possibly come again. He simply folds her in half, legs placed over his shoulders as he proves her wrong. The final climax is wrought in shrieking agony for them both. It is almost...cleansing, in a way. He pulls out cautiously, readjusting her legs to a more comfortable position before untying her wrists. Ahsoka is limp and pliant, chest heaving with gulps of air. When he removes the blindfold, it is easy to see why. Her eyes are reddened and watery with unshed tears, haunted exhaustion making the blue of her irises lifeless and hollow. His lips press tenderly against her forehead as she closes them. “Shh. Sleep now, ja’ti mirtis {my death}.” He rumbles, just enough of the Dark Side layered into his voice to compel her obedience. A feat that would not be possible without her...current state. Perhaps it would be best to keep her with him for at least a few days, if not longer. His current base of operation is not far, and in this way he can be assured that she is only scratched, not shattered. The Rebellion will whine at him for absconding with their precious former Jedi, no doubt. Let them. He has had larger headaches than their petty grievances and slights. The only outrage that will matter is Ahsoka’s, once she regains herself and takes her freedom. Until then, she is his, and he will tend to her as he sees fit. (A/N: MAUL, ABDUCTING PEOPLE IS NOT HOW YOU SHOW PROPER AFFECTION OR AFTERCARE, FFS. -_-*** So yeah. I might do a single follow-up to this later from Ahsoka’s POV, depending on a number of things. This...might be the first smut drabble I’ve written purely from Maul’s perspective, come to think of it. The line in Sith language is repurposed from captainmazzic, and a couple of others from TLJ. The important thing to remember is that Maul is both Very Persuasive and convinced that he is Always Right. And he is, kind of, but only from a very selective point of view. Ahsoka has every reason to question the morality of what it means for her to not only want sex from him, but also that she likes having some degree of physical pain involved with sex in general. (Some people aren’t fully comfortable with masochism/painplay in their BDSM, especially when first starting out.) I wanted to explore a version of her that wasn’t as put-together or as sure of herself, because everyone has a point where they either get run down or break entirely; and it doesn’t make her any less for doing so. Anyway, I’ve rambled on a fair bit again. Cheers, everyone!)

#maulsoka #omg i forgot to tag this when i posted it. FAIL #NS.FW #lots of ramblings/warnings in this one but I swear it's for a Good Reason

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malikich · 4 years

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Android Game Archero 2020 Review

introduction:

Stereotypes of many places. This is often the result of simplification, hyperbolization, or intentional ignorance of some external behavior. Sometimes it comes from internal influences that reshape the environment, although the motives behind this imitation can vary. As many black rappers who convinced him that he was dangerous and cruel did not appeal to the average black man who tried to live a normal life, so too did Archero's structure not support the gaming market. And even though what I can only describe as an insult is difficult for the game, its structure is not bad.

Gameplay:

The aim of the Archero game android is to clear one enemy room and move on to another. Each room is provided randomly with various environmental hazards, such as holes, walls and spikes, in addition to unusual enemy arrangements. You can move the screen by tapping and zooming while standing, the character directly attacks the closest enemy.

You can also travel short distances with close targets to attack nearby enemies, because you can attack enemies and keep shooting when away from you, even if other enemies are approaching the point of fire.

This raw material means that you will move from various locations, stand up to attack other enemies, and if you think about it, the rooms will gradually become easier when you give up.

The enemy will lose their experience, which you can use at a higher level, and each level can choose between three random updates that can increase their attack or defense.

The upgrade process is simple and often returns to level 1 with each game completed. Pass through the world of the 50th floor. This will open the next world with several new enemies and updates.

The update itself is a mixed bag, with some being seriously dominated (combining Ricochet with Multishot and Forward Arrow, you will have 8x the level of your normal damage) and some being quite simple (frozen arrows only slow down your opponent.) Periodically, you find angels that offers you a choice between a slight increase in energy and healing, which gives you an incentive to clean levels without suffering damage.

A quick update means that you see how your decision will affect the game in a very direct and dramatic way, which is very good.

So, let's be critical. Is there something wrong with the gameplay itself? Well, nothing ruined the gaming experience. Control may be simpler than its spiritual predecessor, The Binding of Isaac, but I see this as a necessary and fair trade.

The fact that the controls share real estate with screens makes complex controls a risky business for mobile games, and I think turning a dual stick game into a single analog stick is a smart choice.

Given the analog response, I can confidently say that developers know what they are doing here.

That said, there are some Archero elements that seem obsolete. It's usually not difficult to choose which updates you want, and given that you actually check in when you get out of the way of attack, the game can feel like a hell of a bullet simulation battle, rather than actually having it participate in it.

All of that can lead to casual games that seem a little too casual. Or, more precisely, it can look monotonous.

Now, with everything around the base mechanism being said, I need to talk about elephants in the room, which is the way the game handles everything outside the base mechanism.

Graphics / sound:

I can reluctantly say that Archero's graphics follow aesthetics and emotion. Most importantly, the presentation (or juice) of the game is deep and interesting.

Increasing your weapon ends up provoking a single attack to trigger the effects of arrows and particle effects, with many sound effects and vibrations on the screen to express the increased power of your weapons.

Everything that is said, aesthetics also suffers from the color palette of the Teletubbies bag. Different colors of buttons and icons in the user interface make the menu attack the senses, which is really embarrassing because the gameplay itself is so easy and better because of that.

#archero pc #archerogame #archeroguide #archeroapk #archeroonline #archeroabilities #archerogameplay

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addressingsophism · 5 years

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Examples of Psychological Abuse

Ridicule or insult you then tell you it’s a joke, or that you have no sense of humor.

Put down your beliefs, religion, race, heritage - or that of your family / friends.

Withhold approval, appreciation or affection.

Give you the silent treatment.

Ignore direct questions…Walk away without answering.

Criticize you, call you names, yell at you.

Humiliate you privately or in public.

Roll his or her eyes … or mimic you when you talk.

Disrespect or insult you, then tell you that you’re too sensitive.

Seem energized by arguing, while arguing exhausts you.

Have unpredictable mood swings, alternating between good and bad for no apparent reason.

“Twist” your words, somehow turning whatever you say against you.

Complain about how badly you treat him or her.

Threaten to leave, or threaten to throw you out.

Say things that make you feel good, but do things that make you feel bad.

Compliment you enough to keep you happy, yet criticize you enough to keep you insecure.

Harass you about imagined affairs.

Manipulate you with lies and contradictions.

Act immature and selfish, yet accuse you of those behaviors.

Question your every move and motive, somehow questioning your competence.

Constantly interrupt you while you’re trying to make your point.

Make you feel like you can never win : damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

Incite you to rage, which is “proof” that you are the one with the “problem” - not them.

Try to convince you that they are “right,” while you are “wrong”.

Frequently say things that are later denied or accuse you of misunderstanding.

Additionally:

Alienation - The act of cutting off or interfering with an individual's relationships with others.Baiting - A provocative act used to solicit an angry, aggressive or emotional response from another individual.Belittling, Condescending and

Patronizing - This kind of speech is a passive-aggressive approach to giving someone a verbal put-down while maintaining a facade of reasonableness or friendliness.

Blaming - The practice of identifying a person or people responsible for creating a problem, rather than identifying ways of dealing with the problem.

Bullying - Any systematic action of hurting a person from a position of relative physical, social, economic or emotional strength.

Bunny Boiling - Bunny Boiling is a reference to an iconic scene in the movie "Fatal Attraction" in which the main character Alex, who suffers from Borderline Personality

Disorder, kills the family's pet rabbit and boils it on the stove. Bunny Boiling has become a popular reference to how people sometimes exhibit their rage by behaving destructively towards symbolic, important or treasured possessions or representations of those whom they wish to hurt, control or intimidate.

Cheating - Sharing a romantic or intimate relationship with somebody when you are already committed to a monogamous relationship with someone else.

Compulsive Lying - Compulsive Lying is a term used to describe lying frequently out of habit, without much regard for the consequences to others and without having an obvious motive to lie. A compulsive liar is someone who habitually lies.

Cruelty to Animals - Acts of Cruelty to Animals have been statistically discovered to occur more often in people who suffer from personality disorders than in the general population.

Dependency - An inappropriate and chronic reliance by an adult individual on another individual for their health, subsistence, decision making or personal and emotional well-being.

Emotional Blackmail - A system of threats and punishments used in an attempt to control someone’s behaviors.

Engulfment - An unhealthy and overwhelming level of attention and dependency on another person, which comes from imagining or believing one exists only within the context of that relationship.

False Accusations - Patterns of unwarranted or exaggerated criticism directed towards someone else.

Favoritism - Favoritism is the practice of systematically giving positive, preferential treatment to one child, subordinate or associate among a family or group of peers.

FOG - Fear, Obligation & Guilt - The acronym FOG, for Fear, Obligation and Guilt, was first coined by Susan Forward & Donna Frazier in Emotional Blackmail and describes feelings that a person often has when in a relationship with someone who suffers from a personality disorder.

Gaslighting - The practice of brainwashing or convincing a mentally healthy individual that they are going insane or that their understanding of reality is mistaken or false. The term “Gaslighting” is based on the 1944 MGM movie “Gaslight”.

Harassment - Any sustained or chronic pattern of unwelcome behavior by one individual towards another.

Hoovers & Hoovering - A Hoover is a metaphor taken from the popular brand of vacuum cleaners, to describe how an abuse victim trying to assert their own rights by leaving or limiting contact in a dysfunctional relationship, gets “sucked back in” when the perpetrator temporarily exhibits improved or desirable behavior.

Hysteria - An inappropriate over-reaction to bad news or disappointments, which diverts attention away from the real problem and towards the person who is having the reaction.

Imposed Isolation - When abuse results in a person becoming isolated from their support network, including friends and family.

Infantilization - Treating a child as if they are much younger than their actual age.

Intimidation - Any form of veiled, hidden, indirect or non-verbal threat.Invalidation - The creation or promotion of an environment which encourages an individual to believe that their thoughts, beliefs, values or physical presence are inferior, flawed, problematic or worthless.

Mirroring - Imitating or copying another person's characteristics, behaviors or traits.

Name-Calling - Use of profane, derogatory or dehumanizing terminology to describe another individual or group.

No-Win Scenarios - When you are manipulated into choosing between two bad options

Objectification - The practice of treating a person or a group of people like an object.

Pathological Lying - Persistent deception by an individual to serve their own interests and needs with little or no regard to the needs and concerns of others. A pathological liar is a person who habitually lies to serve their own needs.

Perfectionism - The maladaptive practice of holding oneself or others to an unrealistic, unattainable or unsustainable standard of organization, order, or accomplishment in one particular area of living, while sometimes neglecting common standards of organization, order or accomplishment in other areas of living.

Projection - The act of attributing one's own feelings or traits to another person and imagining or believing that the other person has those same feelings or traits.

Proxy Recruitment - A way of controlling or abusing another person by manipulating other people into unwittingly backing “doing the dirty work”

Push-Pull - A chronic pattern of sabotaging and re-establishing closeness in a relationship without appropriate cause or reason.

Ranking and Comparing - Drawing unnecessary and inappropriate comparisons between individuals or groups.

Raging, Violence and Impulsive Aggression - Explosive verbal, physical or emotional elevations of a dispute. Rages threaten the security or safety of another individual and violate their personal boundaries.

Sabotage - The spontaneous disruption of calm or status quo in order to serve a personal interest, provoke a conflict or draw attention.

Scapegoating - Singling out one child, employee or member of a group of peers for unmerited negative treatment or blame.

Self-Harm - Any form of deliberate, premeditated injury, such as cutting, poisoning or overdosing, inflicted on oneself.

Shaming - The difference between blaming and shaming is that in blaming someone tells you that youdid something bad, in shaming someone tells you that you are something bad.

Silent Treatment - A passive-aggressive form of emotional abuse in which displeasure, disapproval and contempt is exhibited through nonverbal gestures while maintaining verbal silence.

Sleep Deprivation - The practice of routinely interrupting, impeding or restricting another person's sleep cycle.

Splitting - The practice of regarding people and situations as either completely "good" or completely "bad".

Stalking - Any pervasive and unwelcome pattern of pursuing contact with another individual.

Targeted Humor, Mocking and Sarcasm - Any sustained pattern of joking, sarcasm or mockery which is designed to reduce another individual’s reputation in their own eyes or in the eyes of others.

Testing - Repeatedly forcing another individual to demonstrate or prove their love or commitment to a relationship.

Thought Policing - Any process of trying to question, control, or unduly influence another person's thoughts or feelings.

Threats - Inappropriate, intentional warnings of destructive actions or consequences.

#abuse #scapegoating #psychological manipulation #toxic relationships

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jasmineuni-blog · 5 years

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The life of a Love Island lady

From a novelty ITV2 show to a nationwide obsession, Love Island has undoubtedly become essential summer viewing for the majority of young people. As a result, it’s now the norm for Islanders to go on to become influencers, presenters and “celebrities”, targeting an audience of young adults – and lots of this is achieved through the means of social networks, especially Instagram. But a quick scroll through the accounts of a handful of female ex-Islanders highlights a concerning issue: trolling. Negative, abusive, insulting comments sit just below most posts, critiquing not only the photo itself, but the person behind it.

Known for being confident, passionate and argumentative both on and off the island, Olivia Atwood now has over 1.6 million followers, as well as multiple follow-on reality TV features since 2017. And yes, a large proportion of her posts on Instagram could be considered provocative or seductive. However, the post above is just one example from hundreds of pics which are met with negative comments and opinions based on her physical appearance. From her make-up to her figure, people were quick to publish their thoughts on how she looks (and therefore how she “should” look).

As an influencer, with plenty of money and a pretty glamourous lifestyle, it’s not surprising that Liv posts these kinds of images – but why do some people feel it is OK to be so vocal with their personal judgements in the comments?

One explanation is that it’s down to an underlying jealousy: perhaps people feel it’s unfair that she suddenly landed in fame and fortune by sitting around in the sun on a reality show, allowing her to live this luxurious lifestyle and look so unattainably good. Alternatively, social media provides anonymity and a sense of “untouchable”-ness that may make some users more comfortable to criticize the appearance of Insta celebrities – a behaviour they would be far less likely to replicate in a face-to-face interaction.

Launched into fame in 2016, Kady McDermott has since become “Brand Owner|Model|Make-up Artist|CEO of @bykady_ and @bodygoalsbykady”, according to her Insta bio. And similarly to Liv, her account displays her lavish, desirable lifestyle – yet most of her posts are also met with some negative feedback.

The comments on this post are particularly interesting as they focus on criticising her morals and credibility as a person, rather than her appearance, unlike the previous example. Comments poured in attacking her association with fur, accusing her of supporting the fur trade and questioning her character (as she has previously spoken against the use of fur).

Moral values are a significant factor in why some users leave insulting comments online. When people believe that moral justice has been broken, they automatically feel a sense of entitlement to be offended, therefore can justify their own attack on the person behind the post. In this case, the emotional arguments behind wearing fur could provoke some users to react aggressively in the comments, as their expectations of Kady’s morality as a human have not been met.

Similarly, Megan Barton Hanson from S4 received criticism for an International Women’s Day pic she posted recently, where people shredded into her morals and values, accusing her of disrespecting women and being a poor role model for young girls.

While Megan’s Insta output is not the most appropriate content for some audience demographics, such as young teenage girls, commenting negatively on public posts can have harmful impacts for the person who posted it, in terms of mental health. This behaviour again can be explained by the importance of moral expectations: these commenters perhaps feel it is a betrayal of the trust of Megan’s followers for her to post such suggestive, sexualised images like the one above, and associate it with a day dedicated to feminine power and independence.

A final example of the millions of female influencers’ posts which receive hate from the public is that of Georgia Steel. The pic above received insulting comments aimed at Georgia’s personality, rather than her appearance or values. It appears that Insta has become an place for followers to share their up-to-date opinions of Georgia’s character, based on current TV shows such as Celebs Go Dating. Just a few short years ago, there was no such outlet for viewers to publicly announce their thoughts about celebrities to the world. Since the mass uptake of social media, anyone can write a permanent, globally visible judgement and directly address the person they are insulting, like never before.

Another possible explanation is that these commenters feel they possess more epistemic knowledge than the influencers: they deem behaviour such as Georgia’s to be inappropriate for the social circle it is visible to, and perhaps see it as their responsibility to inform the influencer, and everyone else, of this.

The content published by Olivia, Kady, Megan and Georgia on their Instagram accounts is (of course!) not going to be to everyone’s taste. They target an audience of young, predominantly female followers, and use Instagram as a tool for profit, through paid advertisement and product endorsement. However, ultimately their own accounts should allow personal expression and free speech. While you could argue that the comments themselves represent freedom of speech and opinion, they often provoke negativity around self-image and would not be said off social media. In cases like these, the screen acts as a barrier between saying insulting, offensive things, and facing any consequence or punishment from it: this can give some users the confidence to be provocative, personal, and pretty savage with their feedback.

The persistent nature of social media comments means that there can be ramifications from posting harmful ones further down the line. Social networking platforms themselves are also taking more responsibility over the issue of trolling, and it’s possible that we’ll see more serious consequences for it in the near future. For now though, it’s still concerning to see the number of unpleasant messages and comments left under the posts of social media influencers like the Love Island graduates studied above.

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asking-jude · 5 years

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Hello Jude! I'm bee. Recently, I've noticed that my relationship with my dad is... not great. I don't know if it's been steadily getting worse, or if it just got worse all of a sudden, because I've been considering the times when he's friendly and calm to be the norm. But I just noticed that maybe this is bad, even if there are times when he's ok. In the past, he used to tap me sharply on the head when I did something wrong. He usually doesn't use physical violence against me anymore, but (2/4)

(ask continued) …he does insult me, tell me I’m lazy and selfish, yell at me, talk over anything I say, slam doors, curse at me, and threaten me. Most of the time, I have no idea what I did to provoke him. Whenever he gets angry, he yells at me for rules he seemingly pulls out of nowhere, like “don’t lean on the counter,” and “don’t close the drawers with anything but your hands.” He makes me cry a lot. I realized today that he almost never apologizes, and when he does, it’s always accompanied by excuses.

He claims that he wants to learn to communicate with me better, but when I try to explain to him that, say, the reason I didn’t help him clean the table was because he only mentioned that the table was dirty and never actually asked me to help (I’m autistic, which makes it hard for me to read between the lines like that), he accuses me of using autism as an excuse. He always places all the blame on me, and never takes any responsibilities.

He also makes fun of my sister’s and my anxieties, and calls me useless for not cleaning up my dog’s vomit (I’m severely emetophobic and she has IBS). I posted this on my blog because I was wondering if I should be concerned about this and what I should do, and everyone immediately told me that I was being abused. Based on the information I’ve given here, is that what’s happening? What should I do? I’m fifteen, I’m autistic, and I don’t want to disrupt the norm, even if the norm is bad.

Hi dear,

Thank you so much for reaching out to Asking Jude. I am so sorry you are going through this. You mentioned that your dad doesn’t “usually” use physical violence against you anymore, and no matter how often it happens, it is not okay. Moreover, emotional abuse is never okay and I want you to get the help you need. I am so glad that you are aware that this is a bad thing even though he is friendly sometimes. You deserve to be loved all the time.

Can you talk to your mom about this? Perhaps she can speak to him about the way he communicates with you, considering you tried to speak with him yourself already and that didn’t go so well. It is important that you talk to someone about your feelings to get the support you need. It can be very useful to speak to someone who understands the situation, like a family member.

I would advise you to contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline. It is a 24-hour, national, toll-free telephone hotline. It provides information and assistance to adult and youth victims of family violence, domestic violence, or dating violence. The nationwide number is 1−800−799−SAFE(7233). There is also an online chat option if that is something you would be more comfortable with: https://www.thehotline.org/what-is-live-chat/ Emotional and psychological abuse are not legal grounds for a protection order; however, if there are no threats of violence, a criminal harassment order could be an option. The National Domestic Violence Hotline would be able to provide you with further information. I think it would be a really good idea to give them a call and talk to them about your situation. They are trained counselors and they would be very understanding of your situation and be able to provide you with guidance and support.

I want you to do whatever you are comfortable doing. I hope you find this helpful. Please don’t hesitate to reach out again.

Sending you my love,

Maayan

Asking Jude needs YOUR help! Donate pocket change here and save our safe space.

#ask #advice #mental health

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thedepressedweasel · 5 years

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Am I in an abusive relationship/friendship? Checklist. Bold the ones that happened to you, italicize if you’re not sure. Originally written for relationships, later realized most points are applicable to friendships as well. (some are relationship specific, so you can ignore them if you’re checking for friendship, also this works for marriage as well)

Physical abuse

they sometimes push me, kick me, and/or intimidate me physically

they’ve hit me before, and I’m scared they might do it again

they make it clear that they want to hit me

they’ve been hitting walls, throwing things around me and at me, kicking objects or furniture, making it clear they’re barely controlling themselves not to hit me

they sometimes corner me/trap me with their body so I can’t escape (during arguments or otherwise)

they left painful marks on my body (from gripping my body too tight in anger, from pushing me to fall down, from rough treatment, dragging)

they sometimes hurt me but it’s only because they have short temper/alcohol problem/tough day at work/other things they deal with

they sometimes hurt me but they make it clear it’s only because of something I’ve done/said or something I failed to do or say

they’ve choked me, restrained my movements, pinned me down and refused to let me go even though I was struggling/paralyzed

they’ve ignored my cries of pain and kept hurting me

I’ve been in hospital before due to the injuries they’ve caused me

they sometimes make me feel like my life is in danger

Social abuse

they hate my friends, and want me to spend less time with them, or completely cut them out of my life

they’ve affected me to drop more than one friend from my life

they’ve managed to isolate me from family members, friends, acquaintances and people I used to enjoy spending my time with

they get angry if I enjoy my time out with friends/family, and call my socializing derogatory names, as if hanging out with people was a luxury I’m not supposed to enjoy

they lie about what people have said about me/think about me, in a way that makes me feel humiliated and hated by everyone

their behaviour towards me changes drastically based on who we’re with, they’re completely different when we’re alone compared to when we are in someone else’s company

they lie about our relationship to others, in front of me, and I feel I’m not allowed to challenge them

they threaten me in private to how I’m supposed to act when in public

they humiliate me in public and in front of their friends

they tell people to “just ignore me” and teach them how to dismiss me and my feelings

they talk badly about me to their friends and family and/or mine

they lie to others about what I’ve said and done, making sure I look awful

they make decisions for me and relay them to others without my permission, making sure I look selfish/rude/inconsistent/cruel if I don’t follow through

they mock my talk, walk, behaviour, opinions and features in front of others

they allow others to insult and humiliate me, and they dismiss it all as jokes

they allow others to say offensive, triggering and cruel things to me and they encourage it

they use my reactions to prove to others how I’m overemotional, too sensitive, hysterical or crazy

Emotional abuse

they yell at me even when I’m already crying

they make me feel as if no matter how much I try, I’m never good enough

they call me ugly/lazy/worthless/miserable/toxic, and act like they’re allowed to because it’s the “truth”

when I really need their help/support/comfort, they’re emotionally unavailable, or show no interest in helping me

they make me feel guilty and ashamed if I’m not there for them at any moment, and accuse me of caring too much about other people and activities, when I should make it all about them

they use every opportunity to talk about themselves and ignore whatever I say as if I only said it to offer them a chance to talk about their own issues, even if their issues are much smaller

they intentionally leave out some vital details about their life and feelings, only to use them later to prove how neglectful and ignorant I am of their issues, regardless of how much I listen to them

they make me participate in activities I don’t enjoy, benefit, or feel comfortable doing

they exclude me on purpose from activities I would have enjoyed doing

they get angry if I don’t readily quit my own activities for the sake of accompanying them on theirs

when planning, they always assume and take for granted I’ll do all the heavy and unpleasant work

they refuse to do a same favour for me that I’ve done for them in the past

they purposely do their part of the work badly so I would never ask them to do it again

they purposely manage activities so that I end up doing more unpleasant and draining work

it’s always assumed I’ll sacrifice my goals and needs for the sake of theirs

they seem to forget I have need for attention, affection and support, and no matter how much of it I give to them, I rarely or never get any in return

they don’t do anything for me, to the point where I feel neglected, lonely and sad as if I’m not in a relationship at all

if I point out they neglect me, they get angry and act as if I’m expecting the impossible from them, and accuse me of neglecting them instead

they’ve cheated on me before

they’ve cheated on me and decided it was my fault, because I wasn’t doing enough for them

they’ve cheated on me and demand forgiveness

they flirt with others when they know it makes me insecure and scared

they lie about the time they spend with others and make me feel guilty for doubting their lies

they go over my stuff, look thru my phone/computer/other private device, and make arguments to why they have the right to do it, and why I’m not to be trusted

they accuse me of cheating, flirting, and wanting to have relationships with others, to the point where I’m not allowed to look or talk to another person without getting punished for it

they feel they have the right to punish me, and often let me know they’re deciding just how dire of a punishment i have deserved

they insist on keeping the relationship secret to everyone, and I’m not allowed to let anyone know I’m even talking to them

they lied to me about having other relationships or being married

they make me feel like I’m hard to love

they frequently remind me of how much I am to deal with, and how much they have to sacrifice because of me

they frequently remind me of my every bad feature to remind me that I’m a burden to them, and that I should be grateful they still tolerate me

they keep promising they will never hurt me again, but they still keep repeating it

I always have to be reminded of how tough they had it and all the reasons they have for acting hurtful the way they do

I always have to focus on their problems, and push mine under the surface, theirs just seem to be more important

I always have to be considerate and hide my pain in order to not make them feel guilty

I always have to forgive them and keep acting like nothing bad happened when they hurt me

I’m sometimes scared of them, but I push it down and remind myself of the nice things they did

I’m sometimes worried they’re going to hurt me, but I remind myself of their potential to love me

I often feel used and exploited by them, and like they’re only with me to get something out of it

I keep waiting for them to return my love and act more supportive towards me for a long time

I sometimes want to break up but every time I start feeling this way they do something to make me feel too guilty to leave, or give me more hope that things will get better if I stay.

I feel if I leave them I’ll be doing the same thing everyone else has done to them, and I don’t want to be that person.

I feel obligated to stay because they’ll have nobody without me.

I feel like I owe them too much to leave them.

I feel like I’m here to prove to them that not everyone is awful, and that they can get what they need in life, and to restore their faith in humanity, and for this I’ve been enduring everything they did to me.

I feel like nobody will ever love me again if I leave.

I feel like I wouldn’t be able to survive without them.

I’m scared they’ll hurt me if I leave.

I’m scared they’ll hurt themselves if I leave.

they’ve threatened to hurt me, or hurt themselves if I leave

Psychological abuse

they insult me and/or call me names and slurs, and play it off as a joke a moment afterwards

they insist i don’t have a real reason for getting upset/offended/hurt

they humiliate and blame me for having problems and struggling with life

they insist that I caused all the problems for myself and I wouldn’t have them if I wasn’t so stupid/incapable/slow/mentally ill/lazy/problematic

they insist my problems are “made up” or just me dramatizing my situation

they question my choices until I start doubting them myself

they claim I’m too emotional and irrational to be making any choices

they call me “too difficult” or “too complicated” to deal with, and to love

they make me responsible for their feelings and actions towards me (if they do something it’s because “I made them do it”, if they feel angry it’s because I “provoked” them, if they feel unsatisfied it’s because I haven’t done enough for them)

they use my chronic illness/mental illness/psychological issues against me, to prove that I’m not a full person worthy of love, and that they’re supposed to be praised and rewarded for dealing with me

they use my past trauma/past experiences to explain why I’m distrustful and why I perceive them the way I do (implying that my perception is wrong and it’s my fault I don’t trust them)

they demand to decide how I should perceive their actions (they insist I should find their hurtful actions funny, charming, acts of good intentions)

they minimize and dismiss my feelings, concern, worry, anxiety, fear (you’re exaggerating, you’re dramatizing, get over it, get over yourself, people have it worse, you’re lucky, you should be grateful)

I can’t openly tell them when they’ve hurt me, I know it will make them angry/sad/upset

they make me comfort them when they hurt me

they get angry at mere implication that they did something wrong, and will fight to prove me otherwise, and punish me for making such accusation

they use my lack of knowledge in certain areas to make me look extremely dumb and ignorant

they belittle and put down my ideas, opinions, experiences and thoughts

they sometimes act like they don’t remember something they said or did to me that was really hurtful

they sometimes act like i did things they did (they will smash a vase and then ask me who smashed it, or why did I smash it the next day)

they insist they didn’t do or say things I can clearly remember them doing or saying, they demand my memory is wrong and that I must be imagining things (I would never do/say that!)

Body control

they make comments about my appearance that lowers my confidence

they make blatant requests and demands about how I should look/dress/take care of myself

they make demands and requests to what I should do with my own body

they talk as if it would be stupid for me to make my own decisions

they insult my body features, criticize my appearance, my weight, my dress choices

they insult features I feel really insecure about, and it makes me feel worse

they laugh at my appearance in front of others, and try to get others to notice a flaw

they compare me to others to show me how I should look, act and behave (why aren’t you more like x?)

Financial abuse (relationship/marriage specific)

they decided I spend too much and used it to take control of finances

they insist on controlling the finances and income, and dismiss me as too incapable to deal with such things

they don’t like me having a source of income and insist I should become financially dependent on them (maybe they framed it like “you don’t have to work, I’ll take care of you”)

they’ve managed to make me financially dependent on them, and they’re using it against me

they demand I don’t have equal rights to decide and manage our finances since they’re the only one bringing the income

they withhold money from me unless I do everything they want and expect of me to do

they make priorities to spend on luxury for themselves, while dismissing my necessities (basic clothing, food, hygiene items, healthcare needs, current project needs)

they decide how much I’m allowed to spend and I have to show proof of it

they lie to me about finances and our current standing

they spend large amounts of money secretly (on gambling, prostitution, alcohol, drugs)

I was forced to pay off their debts/credits/payments for their own belongings

I was forced to save them from financial trouble, and they only made more financial trouble

I’m forced to support them due to their unwillingness to work/losing a job on purpose

they emotionally/psychologically abuse me if I don’t give them full rights to my finances

Sexual abuse (tw rape)

they sexualize my behaviour, take my words and actions sexually when they’re not meant to be, and accuse me of “provoking them”

they get upset and angry if I refuse them for sex, or if I refuse to do a certain act

they punish me for refusing, withhold affection, care, resources from me

they don’t accept me saying “no” to sex, and will keep pressuring me

I don’t always feel like I can easily say no to them, they make me feel like I owe them sex

they’ve told me I’m ungrateful, cruel, selfish and withholding for refusing

if I said yes to something they assume it’s a yes for every time they want it, I’m not allowed to change my mind afterwards

I’m forced to give them sexual favours for holidays/birthdays that I don’t enjoy or want to do

they pressure and coerce me into sex acts I’m not sure I want to do, or I’m sure I don’t want to do them

they’ve been pressuring me to include other people in our sexual life, when I don’t want to

they’ve physically forced me into sex without my consent before

they touch me when I don’t feel comfortable with them doing so

they don’t stop touching me when I tense up/freeze

they’re rough and inconsiderate during sex, and don’t seem to care if they’re hurting me

they don’t stop when I’m hurt, overwhelmed, in pain, crying, making pained noises, paralyzing

they use sex to lash out their anger, and end up hurting me

they humiliate, insult, call me derogatory names and slurs, and emotionally abuse me during sex

they’ve inflicted injuries onto me during sex

they’ve done things I specifically told them not to during sex

they’ve done things to me during sex that I mentioned before to be uncomfortable with

they’ve put me in position where I couldn’t refuse to do a sexual act

they control me during sex, and will get angry or forceful if I don’t obey

they refuse to offer any gentleness and physical care during sex

they refuse to be gentle and considerate to me except after they’ve already hurt me sexually

they demand a lot of sexual attention but refuse to give any to me

they demand a lot of touch and physical affection but refuse to look at me or touch me the same way

they will call me disgusting/undesirable/ugly/unlovable and refuse to touch me, at the same time demanding that I give them what they want sexually

they’ve done things to me without my knowledge (while incapacitated, asleep, unconscious)

they’ve filmed our sexual contact without my knowledge, and/or shared it with others

*even if you seek out or derive pleasure from sexual abuse it will still inflict psychological injuries, and any person who would harm you during intimacy is not safe for your well being

If you bolded more than 7 items on this list, you are dealing with an abusive partner/friend. This is not a complete list of abusive behaviour, but it’s as extensive as I was able to make it. If you can think of more abusive behaviour not listed here, add it to the list! Also, if you have confirmed you’re in an abusive relationship with a man, your next reading should be “Why does he do that”, download it here.

#my first boyfriend did most of the cheating #another guy did the rest of the things that I bolded #except that they second guy wasn't even my boyfriend #he was a stalker #his tumblr url is @madtoyz48169 #meanwhile my first boyfriend kept me financially dependent on him and would guilt me everytime i got mad at him

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carolap53 · 2 years

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May 4, 2022

Laying Down the Need To Defend Ourselves ABBY MCDONALD

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español

“Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.” 1 Peter 3:9 (NIV)

As soon as I read the person’s comment on social media, I felt my blood pressure rise. The words insulted me on a deep level and questioned my integrity as a believer. Immediately, I wanted to defend myself. I began remembering and searching for scriptures that would disprove this person's opinion and validate my stance. But as I searched my Bible app, I sensed a conviction in my spirit.

Stop. Wait.

I admit I didn’t want to listen. After all, didn’t I need to prove this person wrong? Didn’t they need to know their words were not OK? But the longer I sat in my recliner, pausing instead of reacting, the more I knew a retort would not accomplish anything. A response made in self-righteous anger would only fuel dissension.

This was not the first time someone said something offensive to me, either on social media or in person. Often, the world around us can seem like a minefield where we never know how people are going to respond to our words.

So what do we do when we feel the need to defend ourselves? How do we distinguish between defending ourselves and defending Jesus? How do we know when to speak and when to stay silent?

Let’s look at the Gospels, in which no one claimed more fierce loyalty to Jesus than Peter did. He even said he would die for Jesus. (Luke 22:33) When the Roman soldiers and high priests came to arrest Jesus, Peter cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant Malchus. But instead of letting Peter defend Him, Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Put your sword away! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?” (John 18:11, NIV). Jesus made it clear that the disciple’s job was not to defend Him with violence or in anger.

Later, in 1 Peter, we see a complete transformation in this disciple. God opened his eyes to see that retaliation against those who wrong us does not serve His purposes, and Peter instead gave this command to the Church:

“Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing” (1 Peter 3:9).

To be certain, we can trust that the Lord, our Advocate, never asks us to tolerate abusive situations or relationships and wants us to live in freedom. Seeking help and removing ourselves from such situations is different from knee-jerk reactions of wounded pride. In today’s world of instant replies, it has never been easier to react based on our first emotions rather than respond with intentionality and love. Our enemy knows this. He seeks to divide us and provoke arguments, and often we fall blindly into his schemes.

But when we let God take His rightful place as our Defender and respond to others in His love, something beautiful happens. Instead of the focus being on us, it turns to Him. People are drawn to God in us instead of being repelled — because they notice something contrary to the me-first attitude our culture promotes.

Jesus has already won the battle against our true enemy. One day, Christ will return to claim those He calls His own. But until then, He asks us to love others. When we follow this simple but often difficult command, we don’t have to worry about fighting for ourselves because He fights our enemy for us. Our armor is His Truth, and it gives us surpassing peace.

God, thank You for being our Defender. When anger rises, help us to see who our true enemy is and to know that the only armor we need is the armor You provide through Your Spirit of Truth. When we’re tempted to repay evil for evil, may we choose Your peace and blessing instead. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

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webcricket · 6 years

Text

The Wake-Up Call

Characters: CastielXReader ft. Sam and Dean Winchester

Word Count: 3961

A/N: One-shot written for @narisjournal-blog Lizzie’s 300 Follower Challenge with the prompt – “Breakfast hadn’t prepared her for today’s events.” Whether human or angelic, sometimes all a heart needs is a wake-up call to admit what existed therein all along. And breakfast, of course – it’s the most important meal of the day. Equal parts humor, angst, suspense, and fluff.

Breakfast hadn’t prepared you for today’s events. Your eyelids fluttered open to a black void. At least you hoped the lack of light was because of its total absence in whatever hell hole you’d landed in and not something worse. A high-pitched ringing lambasted your ears, interrupted by a low involuntary gurgling groan vibrating in your throat as you botched a dizzying attempt to clamber upright into a semi-vertical position. The headache you’d nursed all day – the result of sheer exhaustion coupled with an empty stomach – had attained a whole new level of excruciating pain. You clawed at your ears, the source of the piercing buzz. You were fairly certain the intense noise originating from within your skull was your brain attempting to escape your cranium from the inside out; the gelatinous grey matter deciding just then it was unwilling to tolerate the inhumane conditions of this day any longer. You couldn’t blame it for trying, however ill-timed the endeavor. Dismissing the clearly concussed nonsense flitting through your conscious mind, you reasoned the renewed ruthlessness of the throbbing and noise probably had more to do with the massive bruise forming on your temple and the sticky liquid oozing from your split eyebrow and stinging your dark-blind vision. You groaned again – the act of thinking hurt.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Castiel called out to you; his gruff voice echoed off the walls of the room – at least you supposed it was an enclosed room based on the reverberating acoustics.

“More or less,” you mumbled, dabbing at your bleeding brow with the base of your palm to redirect the flow of blood before dragging yourself across the floor toward the sound of rustling fabric. You figured there was less chance of vertigo-induced fainting and the resultant further head trauma if you remained mostly recumbent as an intimately close captive of gravity. No use aiding and abetting in your brain’s prison break. That, and since falling through a trap door disguised as a perfectly ordinary appearing floor mere moments ago, you had a few trust issues to work out about the perceived solidity of solid surfaces.

“Good,” the word fell oddly strained off the angel’s tongue. He grunted in a manner strongly suggestive of profound agony.

“Cas?” you cried out in alarm, pulse amplifying to a tinny whine in your ears with a rush of adrenaline.

He answered with a wet gasping cough.

You risked rising to your knees to crawl the remainder of the distance to him. Your fingers grazed the rubber sole of a boot, following the attached ankle, calf, and knee as guideposts to his body proper. Shuffling forward, you knelt in a disconcertingly large and viscous puddle. Fingertips ghosting over his thighs, you reached up and out into the darkness. Touching his shuddering chest, you located and cupped his face in your palms, pads of your thumbs smearing the tacky fluid collecting at the corners of his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” he sputtered, rather unconvincingly. Weakly grasping at your wrist, his fingers were cold and trembling. “Are you certain you’re alright? I-I didn’t recognize the sigil until it was too late. I should have known this was a trap.”

“Nothing a little Aspirin won’t cure,” you dismissed his concern, your own worry for him more pressing. You felt his brow – his vessel going clammy with shock – shock he shouldn’t be experiencing as a celestial being. You gingerly palpated his torso until your fingertips hit the sharp spike of steel rebar protruding from his lower abdomen. You reflexively gasped as he moaned in response to your grim discovery. Judging from the current of blood gushing out around the entry point of the serrated shaft of metal, it had nicked or punctured something major. “Fine? You call this fine?” You shrugged out of your jacket and, wadding it into a tight ball, applied firm pressure to the wound.

“It’s-” he grunted.

“You’re bleeding out. Why aren’t you healing?” you cut him off, swallowing a sickening surge of fear at the thought of losing the angel. Up until now you took for granted there would be plenty of time to find the courage to tell him how you felt. Time to show him how much his kindness and care meant to you. Time to explore the budding emotion that caused your heart to flutter whenever he was near.

“The walls, I-,” he choked, abdomen racked spasmodically, lungs seized by an agonal pang of anguish as they flooded with fluid.

“Shh,” you soothed, voice cracking, “don’t talk, just…just try to relax. I’m right here. I need you to stay with me.” You instinctively reached for his cheek. Inclining forward, you rested your forehead against his as the convulsion passed. “Please Cas,” you whispered, salty warm tears overflowing to rain upon his skin, “please. Promise me.”

He sucked in a rattling breath, covering your hand with his own, giving your fingers a feeble reassuring squeeze. He would do anything in his power that you asked of him – anything – and he deeply regretted the extant matter of his dying was entirely out of his control. He refused to lie to you. “Sam…Dean…will find us,” his voice emerged a faint murmur muffled by the blood ascending his gullet. “They’ll double back…any minute…find us.” He had to believe they’d find you. Rescue you in time. The alternative was unacceptable.

“Any minute,” you sniffled agreement, nodding into his brow. Assuming, your brain opined, they haven’t fallen victim to a similar trap. The angel needed help now. You couldn’t wait for rescue that might never arrive. “Hey Cas-?”

His fingers twitched in acknowledgement

“Suppose those numbskulls need us to rescue them. Can you see any way out of this place?”

The pitch black room was rapidly growing darker to his angelic sight. The sight that allowed him to read with clarity his death sentence aglow upon the four walls – intricate warding sigils carved into the cement and designed to paralyze the healing power of his grace and render him essentially mortal – an angelic death trap unseen by you with your constraints of human perception. Blinking, he returned his gaze to your red-rimmed unfocused eyes – the vibrant warmth of your soul washing over him in the gloom. He watched a single tear pool and spill over your lashes. Hope – it was his favorite quality in humans – your most endearing virtue and most vexing fault. How many times had you stubbornly maintained hope when all appeared lost? When he saw none? He looked again to the walls and saw it – directly behind you – a defect in the outline of a door. No lock, no knob, no way to open it. Only hope.

“Angel?”

His vessel’s heart began to race in a futile attempt to circulate the blood that didn’t fill his veins any longer. He knew he should tell you about the door. Maybe there was a way out. More likely it was only a way in. And right now he selfishly needed you to hold him. Needed the comfort of your touch. He was scared to die alone and in the dark. There was so much he needed to say and so little time. “Y/N-” He felt himself falling, your name the final softly spoken sentiment on his tongue as consciousness failed him. Fingers sliding from the bare flesh of your arms, he tried desperately to hold on, to anchor himself to your presence, to somehow express to you the breadth of the love he held confined within his heart before its final beat.

“Cas!” you sobbed, catching him and cushioning his head as he slumped and crumpled limp to the floor.

* * * * *

You blindly bashed at the motel alarm clock in a vain attempt to silence the bass assault upon your eardrums. It kept insisting you awaken, even after you yanked the cord from the outlet in a delirium of rage and launched the whole contraption into the oblivion otherwise known as the middle of the room.

“Y/N.”

It seems someone, at some point, had told the abrasive timepiece your name, and you were not at all amused. “Leave me alone!” you moaned into the lumpy pillow, the actual syllables emerging from your throat in the garbled and incomprehensible groaning speech characteristic of the half-asleep human.

“Y/N, you overslept. Again.”

Now the damn thing was judging you. You popped open a dry sleep-crusted eye, blinking against the harsh early morning light spilling in from the spaces between the drawn curtains.

Castiel stood at your bedside, apathetic blue eyes squinting back at you.

“Ugh!” you groaned, yanking the blanket over your head and burrowing deeper into pillow. “Why?”

The angel cocked his head in thought. “It’s already past 7AM,” he suggested in answer to your vague query.

“Cas,” you mumbled, tone undulating to a drawn out whine as if this would instill greater meaning to your question, repeating, “why?”

Cas looked off to the left, jaw clenching as he tried, very hard, without intruding upon your private thoughts for clarification, to determine what, precisely, you wanted him to say. You had a way of confounding him he found at once frustrating and delightfully charming. Flummoxed, expression softening diffidently, he simply offered again with a shrug, “You overslept.”

“Under-slept,” you corrected. “As in, not enough, short of, needed more.”

“That makes sense,” he agreed. “Over implies too much of something. And your irritable mood definitely suggests that this is not the case.”

You were fairly certain the angel just called you cranky. From anyone else, you would have taken it as an insult and retorted with a demonstration of precisely how grouchy you were capable of being when provoked. But with Cas, you knew it was innocent observation. Sitting up with a huff and throwing off the covers, you jammed your fingers into your eye sockets to rub away the vestiges of sleep. Your fingers moved to massage the headache kindling into existence at your temples.

“Sam and Dean went out for breakfast.”

You looked over at the angel and yawned, “And you’re still here.”

Eyes narrowing, he glanced down at himself then back to you, mumbling, “I appear to be.”

You snorted a laugh. “I mean you didn’t go with them.”

He shook his head, fingers fumbling in his pockets. “I thought-”

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, mouth stretching in another lazy yawn as you watched his methodical search.

He produced a granola bar from inside his suit pocket, offering it to you with a small proud smile. “I thought you might be hungry too.”

“Um, thanks Cas.” You turned the foil-wrapped bar over in your fingers, noting the labelled expiration date of nine years prior.

“You’re welcome,” he beamed. “Uh, Jimmy had it in his pocket when-,” he prattled, gesturing at himself “-you know. I’ve held on to it all these years just in case.”

The gift was so sincere, you overcame your skepticism about the bar’s vintage and ripped the corner of the package open. The brown congealed mass inside was rock hard and definitely going to break your teeth if you tried to consume it. You bit your lip and peered up at the angel. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings. You needed a distraction. “Hey, you know what would be great with this?”

His eyes willingly glinted.

“A cup of coffee. I think I saw a machine in the motel office. You mind grabbing me one while I hop in the shower?” It wasn’t food, but you hoped the caffeine would help your aching head.

“Of course.” He turned to leave the room.

“And Cas?” you called after him.

Fingers poised on the doorknob, he glanced over his shoulder.

“When you come back and forget to knock and walk in to find me half-naked, don’t act so dumbfounded. You’re not fooling anyone.”

The angel’s cheeks flushed as he scurried out the door.

* * * * *

“Grigori,” Cas growled when Sam peeled the sheet back to reveal the cold corpse resting beneath – the grey human husk marred with purple bruising and layer upon layer of distinct scars on the arms where the angelic abomination had fed upon the human soul within for years. “They’re supposed to be extinct.”

“Yeah, well, not so much,” Dean griped, motioning for Sam to shroud the body. “Looks like those dimwitted dicks upstairs let more than one of these soul-suckers slip through the cracks. Is anyone surprised? Anyone? No? No one?”

The angel cast Dean a grim glare.

Your stomach rumbled.

“Seriously?” Sam arched a brow at you.

Evidently brutally tortured dead bodies and the antiseptic smell of the morgue did little to deter your hunger. You rolled your eyes, muttering in your stomach’s defense, “You could’ve at least brought me back a bagel or something.”

“Hey, you snooze you lose, sweetheart.” Dean smirked.

“Dean,” Cas chided, “breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“I heard that’s just a myth perpetrated by the cereal industry,” Dean countered.

“Says the man who thinks bacon is a food group,” you argued.

“And cheeseburgers,” Cas helpfully suggested.

“They are, grouped on a plate, with extra fries.” Dean’s green eyes twinkled in self-amusement.

“Guys!” Sam scolded, wagging his jaw at the deceased. “A little respect?”

Your stomach rumbled louder. “Sorry,” you sheepishly pressed your palm to your belly.

“What about the granola bar I gave you?” Cas questioned.

“Not that granola bar?” Dean exchanged a knowing glance with his brother as he picked up the coroner’s report.

Cas looked up between them, a confused cock to his head.

“The one you’ve been trying to pawn off on us for years,” Sam clarified. “The one I’ve personally tried to throw away, what? Seven or eight times now?”

“I stopped counting,” Dean added, skimming the report.

“You didn’t actually eat it, did you?” Sam’s forehead creased in genuine concern.

You shook your head, raising your eyes to meet the angel’s wounded blues. “Sorry Cas, it’s-” You fished the stale bar out of your pocket and offered it back to him. “Well, whatever it is, it was a still nice gesture and I appreciated it.”

“Says here they scraped creosote oil from her skin.” Dean’s gaze lifted from the notes, redirecting you back to the case.

“But the police report said the body was found in a seasonal cabin, miles from town.” Sam peered over his brother’s shoulder. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Unless he moved her,” Cas reached under the sheet and carefully lifted a shriveled hand. Stooping, he brought her fingers to his nose and inhaled.

Dean’s features twisted in horror.

Stomach acid churning, you turned away, fighting a wave of nausea.

“What is it?” Sam inquired – significantly less grossed out by the action than the rest of you.

“It’s specifically the type of preservative used as a flame retardant,” Cas explained.

“Like-” you gagged “-like the stuff they use to treat lumber?”

“Yes,” Cas nodded, delicately folding the woman’s hand to place it under the sheet, “exactly like that.”

“We passed an abandoned lumber mill on the way into town last night,” you pointed out.

“I’d say that’s as good a lead as any.” Dean tossed the file aside. “Let’s go.”

* * * * *

“Get them out of here!” you whisper-screamed, tugging on Dean’s jacket sleeve. A young man and an even younger girl lay restrained and unconscious on dingy cots, wandering in the dream-world created for them by the Grigori. An array of giant rusted, but nonetheless menacing, metal saw blades hung from the walls around them. You recalled the boy’s smiling picture from a missing person’s poster you saw at the police station earlier. With any luck they could both be saved. If it had only been weeks, not years, since they were taken perhaps they were still strong enough to survive.

Sam rushed to cut the young man’s bindings, gently cradling the boy’s frail frame in his arms.

“Now!” you ran ahead, sending a subdued shout of further instruction over your shoulder before Dean could launch a protest. “Come back for us.” You disappeared through the same door Cas vanished through moments ago.

The murky hall streaked with eerie horizontal beams of dust illuminated by the late afternoon sunlight. The footprints on the freshly disturbed sawdust strewn floor indicated Cas had gone right. You readjusted your grip on your angel blade, holding it at the ready as you as you ventured ahead. Cas? you prayed, not wanting to risk alerting the Grigori, if it was here, to your presence. Cas? Where are you?

Cas heard your prayer as he tarried at the far end of the hall, calloused fingertips distractedly tracing a sigil burned into the wooden beams there. It seemed at once familiar and foreign to him.

The angel stood transfixed as you approached him. You flattened a hand to his shoulder. “What is it?”

“I don’t-” he mumbled, his fingers following the winding lines inward to the heart of the strange sigil, unable to stop himself from completing the pattern, “-know.” Blinding light blazed from the charred symbol, radiating from the center outward and stinging your vision. Cas’ blue eyes flamed in reflected horror. Too late, he pivoted and tried to shove you backward out of danger. The floor hinged beneath your feet. Unbalanced, you stumbled forward into his arms, both of you tumbling tangled into the abyss. He did the only thing he could do to protect you then – wrapping his arms about you as you fell, he twisted your bodies, using himself to buffer you from whatever fate awaited below.

* * * * *

“No, no, no! Don’t you do this, you hold on! Castiel, you’re not going anywhere; do you hear me?” You smoothed the angel’s hair, his head rolling limply in your worrying hands. A thready uneven pulse still quivered in his neck.

A metallic lock disengaged behind you with an almost imperceptible ting.

Rocking to your heels, you turned to confront the sound. You squinted against the bright light suddenly pouring through the crack of a door. Holding a hand up to shield your eyes, your heart leapt into your throat in the hope it was Sam or Dean looming outside the entry in backlit shadow. Instinct told you otherwise. Dark-adjusted eyes struggling to locate your lost weapon, you saw the angel blade glinting well out of reach. You scrambled to your feet, grasping a stray piece of the same steel rebar that impaled Cas as you rose. Placing yourself squarely between the door and the fallen angel, you waited.

“Ah, how splendid!” the dark figure bellowed with laughter. “Fresh fodder and a foe bagged together. And to think I believed after billions of years I’d seen everything.”

“Who are you?” you wielded the rebar in front of you, beginning to discern the figure’s sneering features as your sight adapted. You had a good idea it was the Grigori. You also had no immediate plan and needed to stall.

The man chuckled again, flicking his wrist and sending you careening like a ragdoll sideways into the wall.

This did nothing to improve your headache. Smashing face first, you collapsed into a bloodied heap.

He strolled across the threshold into the room, squatting over Cas to admire his handiwork with a smug grin.

The Grigori misjudged both your resilience as a hunter and your devotion to Cas. Head spinning, you slithered up the wall, brain becoming vaguely aware and kindly sharing its notice of the winding imperfections in the concrete below your fingertips. Sigils. They were sigils. Of course! No wonder Cas couldn’t heal. And that meant maybe…you clutched at the rebar and hoped. Lurching forward, you plowed into the Grigori, using the force of your body’s momentum to propel the piece of steel through his ribcage, skewering his vessel’s heart.

Gasping in sheer surprise, fingers clawing useless at his chest, he keeled over backward, powerless, doomed to die by his own trap.

Summoning the last of your strength, willing yourself to not to pass out in spite of the odd hollow and simultaneously fuzzy sensation overtaking half your skull, you staggered to Cas. You picked up his ankles, drawing them up to your waist and locking his feet within your elbows, you leaned heavily backward, dragging him inch by excruciating inch from the room. When the final strand of his hair traversed into the safety of the sigil-less room beyond, your knees buckled. Curling up beside him, you wrenched free the rebar penetrating his abdomen. Thankfully you couldn’t hear the moist sucking sound the metal made as it tore through his vessel’s liver over the ringing in your ears. Steel clattering to the floor, you succumbed to the overwhelming desire to close your eyes and sleep.

* * * * *

A steady beep pulsed as a distant echo your dream. You reclined against a tree – the bark smooth and soft where it touched your back. The verdant grass lush and cool beneath your legs. The sun shone warm on your skin. The sky above stretched infinite and blue.

“I think she’s waking up.”

“Be quiet, Dean.”

You looked down to see the hand embracing yours and opened eyes you didn’t realize were shut.

“Y/N?”

You blinked and Castiel’s concerned features slowly came into focus. Trembling with effort, you reached up to try to caress his scruffy chin to prove to yourself he was real. He grasped your fingers midway and drew them to his lips to place a tender kiss thereupon. He seemed to surprise himself with the action.

“You’re alive,” your voice cracked hoarsely.

He nodded, a subtle smile curving his mouth and softening his blue gaze. “Thanks to you.”

You winced when you tried to smile, the shattered bones in your cheek crackling.

“Try not to move,” he frowned at perceiving your pain, brushing the backs of his fingers gently over your face, grace tingling to sooth but not mend your injury. “I’m not strong enough to heal you yet.”

“I’m fine,” you tried to laugh, which was an even worse idea than smiling based on the shooting pain radiating from your fractured ribs.

“Liar,” Dean teased from the end of the bed. “Good to have you back, kiddo.” He gave your foot a light squeeze, somehow knowing this was the only body part of yours that didn’t hurt.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “And nice work back there. You’ll be happy to know those kids are going to make a complete recovery too. We’ll leave you to get some rest and you’ll be out of here in no time.” He nudged his brother toward the door.

Cas moved to rise.

You caught the angel’s wrist and he settled back into the chair as Sam and Dean left the room.

He sat quietly for a while, fidgeting with his focus as he grappled in silence with everything he wanted to say to you. He peered around at the drab medical machinery of the room, spent a few minutes scrutinizing the ceiling, and few more contemplating the linoleum floor tiles before his attention drifted to you.

“I-” you both spoke at the same time. He nodded yieldingly.

“Cas, I thought-” Tears welled in your eyes.

His hand found yours.

“I thought I lost you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Holding your palm to his cheek, he relaxed into the warmth of your touch.

Your fingers tickled the dark curls at his temple. “I can’t lose you, angel. I-”

“I love you too,” he finished your declaration, eyes gleaming wet as he gazed back with shared affection. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, whispering into your skin, “Now rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

#lizzie's 300 challenge #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel reader insert #castiel x y/n #castiel fluff #castiel angst #cas x reader #cas x you #spn reader insert #you x cas #reader x cas #castielxreader #castielxyou #you x castiel #reader x castiel #castiel oneshot #castiel fanfic #cricket writes cas

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oh-my-otome · 7 years

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Hello! I love your blog. I was creeping around your blog and I saw that Ieyasu character analysis. It was perfect. I was wondering if you could do something similar for Saizo? I feel that his attitude towards his MC would drive her away in the long run. Like sure, she loves him and wants to be there for him, but he leaves her alone for considerable amounts of time, and idk he just feels so closed off. Their relationship has a lack of communication that could cause them to drift apart. Thoughts?

Hello, there! Thank you so much! I’m so glad that you enjoyed it!

These are really fun to do! Ieyasu’s can be found here.

Saizō is the king of lies, and tells them as easily as the wind blows. As much as he tries to outsmart everyone else, even he becomes ensnared by his failure to tell the truth.

He’ll say that he won’t lift a finger to help, and the next thing you know, he’s been skulking in the shadows, making sure that everything is all right, ready to swoop in and assist at the drop of a hat.

Even other people notice it:

He gets annoyed when you or Yukimura don’t do things right, saying that it’s not his problem and that he doesn’t care, only to turn around and help you through until the end, despite what he said.

For as much as he declares that he does not care about love or family, and shows his annoyance outwardly, Saizō will do anything and everything that he can to protect the ones that he cares about, no matter the cost.

Hotaru even outs him:

MC: “What do you do when you get lost?”

Hotaru: “My older brother will come and pick me up.”

So in other words, he’ll stop everything to rescue his little bro from the elements.

Keep pretending to be annoyed, Saizō. It’s totally working! You’ve fooled us all!

For all of his posturing that they annoy him, Saizō does love his siblings, as he keeps Hotaru safe from Kotarō, whenever he shows up, and respects his sister’s advice. He bitches and moans about them, but in the end, even for Saizō, family is family.

To Saizō, it is not only blood that makes a family, but connection, as he cares deeply for his fallen friend, his protégé Sasuke, and his lifelong childhood friend Yukimura.

But for Saizō, these connections must be built over time, as we see that tertiary degrees mean little to him: he cares nothing at all for Inuchiyo, and shows a similar disinterest in Yahiko. He’ll speak to him when spoken to, but he doesn’t go out of his way to engage him, like other suitors who spent time with him.

Even though he is almost always away from his village, and even though he has lived with the Takeda since he was a child, Saizō considers his home to be wherever his MC is, and he makes a beeline for her the minute that he comes back.

Firmly in the kuu and tsun categories of dere-types, Saizō displays a special dichotomy of behavior patterns, both coldly reclusive and hot-tempered. More often than not, Saizō chooses to withdraw from others, giving them the cold shoulder, but he is no stranger to blowing a fuse, either, and is quick to use sarcasm, both as an insult and as a defense mechanism.

Rather than admit when he’s wrong, Saizō will also use sarcasm as a shield to protect his ego. Sometimes, this manifests when he wants to tease you, only for him to realize halfway through, that you have him in the palm of your hand:

Saizō’s MC is far more inconsistent than most other MCs, even from event story to event story.

She is either convinced that her only purpose on this earth is to obsessively love him no matter how he treats her, and unceasingly make him dango.

Or she loves him like a regular person and is occasionally tired of his bull and will call him out on it. And then unceasingly make him dango.

When Obsessed MC shows up, she is little better than Kotarō in his Fan Boy mode. They just go about it in different ways.

When she is more normal, she’ll speak her mind, but then immediately go back to worrying about what Saizō thinks about something, instead of just sticking with her original opinion.

While he does go on missions often, which can create emotional distance in a relationship, he has the added benefit of having an MC who is quite obsessed with his opinion of her.

Her self-worth is one of the lowest of all of the MCs, as she tells herself again and again that she lives to make dango– just that one dish –to keep Saizō happy, and that so long as she can do that, she will be happy, herself.

With a dynamic like this, unless she boosts her self-esteem, no matter what Saizō does, she will remain, as not only are they not on equal footing in terms of *education and finances, but she believes that she is happy where she is.

Like Nobunaga, he’s also a hypocrite:

Saizō displays a certain amount of vanity when it comes to his job. He supplements his income with money from his front, the popular restaurant in Kyoto, and also with the books he writes.

Using his reputation, he tends to pick and choose his missions to a certain degree, but even he cannot escape the rules of the village, and when they want to come down on him, they do not hesitate based on his previous accomplishments.

Saizō’s arrogance is one of his defining features, and to be fair, he does have quite a bit of plot armor, but he is never able to escape the memory of killing his best friend.

Whenever it rains, Saizō is overcome with feelings of guilt, and the rain itself represents how helpless he is to change what he’s done– no one can change the weather, and no one can go back in time.

In fact, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for Saizō to see it as his own personal hell that the friend he loved so much, and is responsible for killing, shares a similar personality with the woman he loves.

As it turns out, Saizō is particularly sentimental, going out of his way to keep a comb in near mint condition from childhood into adulthood, and setting traps just to protect it. He won’t even tell you that he has it, keeping it a secret, even though it’s yours.

He extends the same reverence for his friend’s sword, keeping both items close to him, and not allowing another person to touch them, barely speaking about either one, as he continues to internalize his feelings.

Saizō has the odd kink of being turned on by ear cleaning. He does mention that he likes the way you “moan” (his words, though MC is not moaning out of pleasure), but he also finds the entire act itself– including the ear gunk, etc –arousing as well.

If anyone’s ever used an ear pick before, you know there’s no way he’s doing all of that “thrusting” it “deeper” without also encountering not only liquidized **ear wax, but blood.

Because Saizō loves dango so much, and because his MC obsessively desires to please him by almost exclusively making his favorite food and little else, and because Saizō just sits there happily eating it without a care in the world, Saizō’s lack of energy when he’s off-work is not entirely due to battle fatigue, but lack of proper nutrition.

Eating one type of food, exclusively, leads to malnutrition and lack of vitamins, which causes, among other things, fatigue and muscle weakness.

Realistically, rather than being buff, Saizō would experience the cannibalization of muscle tissue, as well as impaired brain function (and hemorrhages, gum disease, etc.)

When it comes to things that he doesn’t know, Saizō typically avoids it rather than learn about it, writing it off as something he doesn’t need to know about, or by saying that it’s just not done where he’s from.

At the end of the day, his plot armor takes care of it, rendering the story moot.

This is one of the reasons why people complain about Saizō– he’s rarely allowed to have any real flaws, because he can get out of any situation.

If another man accosts his MC, Saizō displays his jealousy by psychically inserting himself into the situation.

He doesn’t just say something to the guy, or try to de-escalate the situation by leaving. Instead, he uses intimidation to mark his territory, often provoking the other man, even though he knows that he outclasses him on physical strength alone.

That is, if the other man is of a lower social station than himself.

Saizō doesn’t dare to pull that type of thing with Kenshin and his nephew Kagekatsu, who both have him beat as far as being highborn.

When these two show an interest in his MC, Saizō quite politely squeezes between them, but smartly refrains from showing any disrespect.

When it comes to Kotarō, Saizō is plainly indifferent.

He will only engage him if he absolutely has to, instead allowing Kotarō to exhaust himself in a star-struck frenzy, but Saizōkeeps his guard up, all the same.

If his MC or his brother are around, Saizō is a little more on his toes, but there is a slight difference in the way he protects the two from Kotarō:

Saizō will step in immediately if Kotarō is near his brother, but if it’s his MC, he is willing to use her as bait.

Saizō is Sasuke’s guardian, but true to the way children of Iga are raised, Saizō refrains from coddling him, instead giving him the same tough love that any other ninja would receive.

Sasuke adores him, though, and respects him greatly. Of his two dads, he is close to Yukimura, but reveres Saizō.

Saizō, for his part, understands fundamentally that he could be much gentler when it comes to how he’s raising Sasuke, and walks a fine line between treating him the standard Iga way and wanting to give Sasuke a little bit of what he never had, himself.

Because he is a kuu/tsun mix, though, it is difficult for others to pinpoint if he’s actually being kind to them, or if he’s just doing enough to get them to leave him alone, in the moment.

As the reader, we know, but we can also tell that the characters usually take whatever they can get from Saizō, even if they’re confused about why he’s behaving the way he is.

This can usually be seen when Saizō, seemingly randomly, treats Sasuke to a surprise mission, when Saizō gives Yukimura a rare straight answer with no back-sass, and when he gives his MC some service.

When it comes to Yukimura, Saizō’s loyal to the bone, but he’ll still tell him off when he gets too reckless, such as when he faced off against Ieyasu and was about to be killed.

Although he treats Yukimura as both family and his closest friend, he does find him attractive as well.

Kiyohiro is usually tasked with gettingSaizō to actually show up for missions, and he plays a nanny role for Saizō the same way that Kanetsugu has to stay on Kenshin in order for anything to be done.

Saizō is the author of the Lover’s Guides, which have several volumes and spin-offs, but it should be noted that they do not include any information on foreplay, often leaving the people reading them to either be completely stumped as to what to do next, or become frustrated– usually to hilarious effect.

*none of the MCs would be on the same level as **any of the lords when it comes to wealth or education.

The Maeda family was the second largest land-owning family, the Tokugawa being the first., making them incredibly wealthy and powerful.

**Still gross, but:

@wonky-glass-ornament: “Spot on, but I wanted to point out something about the earwax thing: Asian have a different type of earwax than white and black people. Theirs is dry and flaky, whereas ours is wet and oily. Cleaning your ears, therefore, is quite different if you are Asian. Link.”

#samurai love ballad party #kirigakure saizo

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chronotrek · 7 years

Text

758. [MOV] Star Trek (2009)

SCORE:

(4/5 stars)

The year is 2233 and the USS Kelvin has encountered a lightning storm near Klingon space. Coming out of said lightning storm is a massive Romulan mining vessel turned juggernaut world destroyer, the Narada. It immediately opens fire and cripples the Kelvin, demanding that Captain Robau come aboard to discuss terms of surrender with the Romulan captain Nero. Robau knows this is a one-way trip, and passes command to his first officer, George Kirk. Aboard the Narada, Robau is asked about Ambassador Spock, a name he is unfamiliar with, and then asked for the year. Once his answer is given, Nero impales him on a spear and resumes firing on the Kelvin. George Kirk has the ship evacuated while he mans the bridge. Autopilot is broken, so someone has to stay behind and manually fly the ship into the Narada to buy the shuttles time to escape. As George Kirk is flying to his death, his wife Winona gives birth aboard a shuttlecraft. In their final conversation, they pick a name for their child: James Tiberius Kirk. Jim Kirk grows up quite the troublemaker, exemplified in a moment when he steals his stepdad's antique Corvette and drives it right into a quarry.

Meanwhile, sixteen light-years distant, a young Vulcan-Human hybrid named Spock is bullied by classmates who attempt to provoke an emotional response. He's able to keep it together until they insult his mother, which will turn out to pretty much always be his berserk button. His father Sarek consoles him about his internal conflict, and while he suggests fully embracing his Vulcan heritage, tells him that it is a decision only Spock can make. As a young adult, Spock asks his mother Amanda Grayson if she will take it as a personal slight that he is choosing to pursue kolinahr, but she says she will always be proud of him. He is admitted entry into the Vulcan Science Academy, but when the minister gives him a backhanded compliment regarding his human mother as a "disadvantage" to overcome, Spock gives them the Vulcan salute all the way to San Fransisco's Starfleet Academy.

Three years later, Kirk's become a caricature of a pop cultural perception of his serial philandering as he catcalls women on campus and sleeps with an Orion cadet only to learn she's roommates with Uhura, which he uses to then immediately flirt with Uhura as she kicks him out of her dorm. Kirk is retaking the Kobayashi Maru test for the third time (one wonders why they allow retakes) but this time he's altered the program allowing him to defeat the Klingon ships and rescue the crew of the Kobayashi Maru. Kirk is called before a special inquiry where he argues with Commander Spock regarding the purpose of the test, defending himself by saying the test is a cheat because there's no way to win, and he doesn't believe in a no-win scenario. Before the hearing can rule, all cadets are ordered to report to starships as Vulcan has issued a distress call and the fleet is away.

Kirk is not issued a starship due to academic suspension, but McCoy is able to sneak him aboard the Enterprise by giving him a vaccine that will exhibit medical symptoms, allowing him to transport his patient with him. Uhura is assigned to the Farragut, and complains about this assignment to Spock, who agrees to reassign her to the Enterprise. Captain Pike orders the ship to go to warp, and his new backup pilot, Lieutenant Sulu, forgets to take off the "parking brake" (external inertial dampeners), delaying their departure with the rest of the fleet. Pike orders Ensign Chekov to announce the mission over the comm system. When Kirk hears the mission, regarding reports of a lightning storm near the Klingon neutral storm followed by seismic activity on Vulcan, he realizes it's not a natural catastrophe, but that Vulcan is being attacked by the Narada, backed up by a transmission Uhura had heard regarding the destruction of a Klingon fleet at about the time of the lightning storm. After a brief argument regarding Kirk not belonging on the ship, Spock is convinced by his argument and recommends they prepare for battle once they drop out of warp.

The Enterprise drops out of warp into a debris field comprised of the other seven ships that went before it. The Narada is in orbit of Vulcan, deploying a mining laser from a long hanging platform lowered into the atmosphere. The laser is interfering with transporters and communications. The Narada fires on the Enterprise but stops when Nero recognizes the starship. He hails the Enterprise and greets Spock as though he knows him. Like before when he attacked the Narada, he asks Pike to come aboard to negotiate terms of surrender. Both Spock and Kirk advice against it, but Pike sees a tactical advantage in going over and tells Spock he's acting captain now, with Kirk as first officer. Since transporters are not functional, Pike takes a shuttle, and has an away team of Kirk, Sulu, and Chief Engineer Redshirt Olson come along.

When Pike passes by the mining drill, the away team jettison from the shuttle and perform an orbital skydive, flying close enough to the drill to not be detected so they can deactivate the laser at the base platform. Olson is a little amped up from adrenaline and pops his parachute too late, colliding with the platform and getting sucked under the laser. Kirk and Sulu encounter a couple Romulans who pop out from a hatch and engage in ye olde Star Trek fisticuffs. Since Olson had the explosives, they have to improvise and use the Romulans' disruptor rifles to fire on the drill platform.

This shuts down the laser, enabling transport and communications again, but a tunnel has been blasted all the way to the Vulcan core, and Nero launches something called "red matter" into the planet's core. Chekov calculates that the red matter is creating a black hole that will consume Vulcan, and the planet has only minutes left. Spock orders an evacuation of the planet and wants to head down himself to find the Vulcan Council, where his parents will be, since they'll be deep inside a cavern and not receive the evacuation order.

The Narada retracts the drill before Kirk and Sulu can beam off the platform and they're forced to do a skydive, which makes a transport lock harder to do, but Chekov runs to the transporter room and is able to stabilize the transport signal just before Kirk and Sulu would have splattered on the Vulcan ground. Spock beams down and finds the Vulcan Council and his parents and they evacuate to the surface so they can be beamed up, but the ground gives way under Amanda before she can be beamed out and Spock watches her die. The Enterprise leaves orbit as Vulcan is consumed by the black hole at its center. Uhura meets Spock in the turbolift, crying as he is stoic, kissing him (revealing they are in a relationship) and asking what she can do, to which he responds he needs everyone to "continue performing admirably."

Pike is interrogated by Nero, who wants security defense codes for Earth, while Pike demands Nero answer for committing genocide. Nero rants about exacting vengeance upon those responsible for the destruction of Romulus, but Romulus hasn't been destroyed, it's perfectly fine. Nero insists it's happened, because he watched it happen, and if Pike won't be more forthcoming with security codes, he'll shove a Centaurian slug down his throat. You might think that Centaurian slug looks and performs pretty similarly to a Ceti eel, and you'd be correct.

They speculate that the Narada must have come from the future, because its technology and firepower is beyond anything the Romulan Star Empire is known to possess, and the black holes created by the red matter could theoretically allow time travel. Spock notes that any changes made since the Narada entered this timeline in 2233 would have created an entirely new alternate timeline unhindered by TV show canon. Spock wants to take the Enterprise to regroup with the rest of the fleet, but Kirk knows the Nerada is going to Earth next and their only hope of saving Earth is if they pursue immediately. Their argument over the correct course of action leads to Spock kicking Kirk off the bridge, and then off the ship entirely, sending him in an escape pod down to the neighboring ice planet of Delta Vega.

There, Kirk has to run away from not one but two giant monsters pursuing him for a meal, eventually running into an ice cave where a humanoid figure scares the monster away with a torch. He turns around to reveal that he is Spock - the original Leonard Nimoy Spock Prime, aged and grey. In a mind meld, Spock Prime is able to explain what happened. In the future he comes from, he tried to save the galaxy from an unusual supernova that was threatening to consume everything. He was able to obtain "red matter" from Vulcan scientists in order to consume the expanding fireball, but was not quick enough to save Romulus from destruction. Nero blamed him for being too slow to act and attacked his ship, but they both were pulled into the black hole Spock Prime created. Nero arrived first, 25 years ago, while Spock Prime was spat out only a few days ago. Nero was waiting for him, and marooned him on Delta Vega so he could see Vulcan collapsing in the sky.

Spock Prime is dismayed to learn that Spock, not Kirk, is captain, and that they can't stand each other. He knows that Kirk's best destiny is in the captain's chair, and convinces him that he can have Spock relieved of command by proving he has become emotionally compromised by the events, which Spock Prime assures him he is. They head toward a nearby Starfleet outpost staffed by a small alien named Keenser, and Montgomery Scott, who claims to have been abandoned on this rock as punishment for testing transwarp beaming on Admiral Jonathan Archer's beagle, who never rematerialized. Spock Prime happens to know the completed formula to achieve transwarp beaming, which would enable Kirk to return to the Enterprise even as it warps away. Scotty tags along, happy to get off this frozen rock with no sandwiches on it. Kirk tries to get Prime to come with, but he says it's something Kirk has to do on his own, and the younger Spock must not be made aware of Spock Prime.

They get beamed into water reclamation in engineering, Kirk on the ground, and Scotty inside a pipe leading directly to a turbine. Kirk access a control panel to release Scotty before he's chopped into bits, and they're quickly set upon by security, including "Cupcake." Hauled up to the bridge, Kirk refuses to explain how he got back on the ship, and starts needling Spock to provoke an emotional response. Spock shows irritation, but it's only when Kirk says Spock must have felt nothing when his mother died and he never loved her that Spock totally loses it and beats the shit out of Kirk. Realizing his folly, he relieves himself of duty, making Kirk the captain now.

Kirk immediately orders the ship to change course for Earth to stop the Narada. Spock returns to the transporter room, where he lost his mother, and Sarek comes to console him. Spock worries that Nero has filled him with an uncontrollable rage, and Sarek advises him not to try to control it. Sarek years ago told Spock that he married Amanda because it was logical for the Vulcan ambassador to Earth to assimilate, but in truth he confesses he loved her. Spock returns to the bridge as Chekov details a plan to exit warp in the upper atmosphere of Titan to avoid detection from the Narada. Spock agrees with the plan and offers to beam aboard the Narada once they are in range so he can stop their black hole device. Kirk wants to go too to save Captain Pike. Uhura kisses Spock goodbye on the transport pad, and he calls her Nyota, the first name Kirk has been unable to get out of her for 3 years (and official confirmation for the rest of us Trekkies after decades).

Once they're beamed aboard, the Narada begins firing its mining laser at the San Fransisco bay, so all communications and transporters again cease functioning. Kirk and Spock shoot their way through Romulans. One Romulan is stunned so Spock can mind-meld with him and get the location of Pike and the black hole device. They find a small ship called the Jellyfish that chirps to recognize Spock when he comes aboard. Spock suspects Kirk knows more than he's letting on. Spock flies the Jellyfish out of the Narada and warps away to bait it away from Earth, as Nero cannot stand Spock getting away. Kirk meanwhile punches and shoots his way to finding Captain Pike.

Once Spock has gotten sufficient distance from the Earth in his ship, he drops out of warp and turns around for a collision course with the Narada. Nero's lieutenant warns him that if they fire on the Jellyfish they could ignite the red matter contained within, but Nero won't listen. As he opens fire, however, Sulu warps the Enterprise into the fray, phasers intercepting the Narada's weapons. The Jellyfish is on course to collide with the Narada when Scotty beams Spock, Kirk and Pike aboard. The plan works, the red matter igniting when the Jellyfish collides with the Narada, and a black hole opens up to consume the ship. Kirk hails Nero, offering assistance, but Nero would rather see Romulus die a thousand times than swallow his pride, so Kirk instead fires all weapons on the Narada. The Enterprise starts falling into the black hole themselves, even when flying away at warp, but Scotty saves the day by jettisoning the core and detonating it behind them, riding the blast wave to safety.

Back on Earth, Spock runs into Spock Prime, who says there are too few Vulcans left for them to ignore each other. Spock Prime says he didn't come with Kirk because he wanted them to discover their friendship organically, and he's become sentimental in his old age. He advises Spock to stay in Starfleet despite the need for the Vulcan race to rebuild and recolonize, a task Prime is willing to take up. Kirk has received a commission of Captain despite only being a third-year cadet and is granted command of the Enterprise for his actions, relieving Admiral Pike. Like, yeah, what Kirk did was commendable, but you don't just hand him the keys because he saved the day during a staffing crisis. Fast-track him, sure, but maybe let him graduate the Academy first?

NITPICKS

Why does Robau need to order the viewscreen polarized? Why hadn't the bridge crew already done this? It was bright enough to cause immediate discomfort to Robau, wouldn't it have interfered with the bridge crew's duties before this?

After a crewman on the Kelvin reports weapons offline, we see the Kelvin still firing weapons.

Why is the Enterprise being constructed on the planet's surface? It makes no sense. The ship is not built for landing and it increases energy costs exponentially to lift it up to space after completed construction.

I know there are deleted scenes explaining that the Narada was captured by Klingons and the crew held on Rura Penthe for 25 years before escaping, but since those are deleted scenes the film proper is left with a bit of a plot hole of just what it was Nero and crew did for 25 years, the only hint being that they destroyed 47 Klingon ships.

Sulu says he has fencing training, yet carries a space katana. One is a stabbing weapon, one a slashing weapon. Very different forms of combat.

Delta Vega was a planet on the galactic rim in TOS. Nero changed a lot of things when he traveled back in time, but he can't move a planet halfway across the galaxy and park it in Vulcan's backyard.

Supernovae move very slowly compared to any starship since the debris cannot travel faster than the speed of light. Unless this supernova was of Romulus' own star, they should have had years to prepare to deal with it. Also, there's no supernova in the universe that can threaten an entire galaxy. The square-cube law is in effect; as the shockwave expands linearly, its density diminishes exponentially.

The implications of transwarp beaming render the use of starships nearly obsolete. I assume that, since we did not see transwarp beaming in any of the 24th century series, the completed equation developed by Scotty was done sometime after the end of Voyager, since Scotty was still alive and well during that period. It certainly had to have been developed before the destruction of Romulus, which means that they wouldn't have needed the Jellyfish to deliver the red matter if they could just beam a capsule into the supernova to collapse it. This is, of course, assuming red matter is stable enough for teleportation; it may very well not be.

When the mining laser is deployed, we see a shot of fleeing cadets at Starfleet Academy. Where did these cadets come from if they had all deployed with the fleet to Vulcan?

While firing the laser right next to the Golden Gate Bridge makes for an impressive movie visual, wouldn't it make more sense to drill in a dry area? Water would constantly be pouring into the hole which could slow the drilling and impede the launch of red matter to the core.

FAVORITE QUOTES

Robau: You're Captain now, Mister Kirk.

Winona: We can name him after your father. George: Tiberius? Are you kidding me? No, that's the worst. Let's name him after your dad. Let's call him Jim.

Spock: You suggest that I should be completely Vulcan, and yet you married a human. Sarek: As ambassador to Earth, it is my duty to observe and understand human behavior. Marrying your mother was logical.

Minister: It is truly remarkable, Spock, that you have achieved so much, despite your disadvantage. All rise! Spock: If you would clarify, Minister. To what disadvantage are you referring? Minister: Your Human mother. Spock: Council, Ministers, I must decline. Minister: No Vulcan has ever declined admission to this academy. Spock: Then, as I am half-human, your record remains untarnished.

Kirk: So, you're a Cadet, you're studying... what's your focus? Uhura: Xenolinguistics. You have no idea what that means. Kirk: The study of alien languages, morphology, phonology, syntax. It means you've got a talented tongue. Uhura: I'm impressed. For a moment there, I thought you were just a dumb hick who only has sex with farm animals. Kirk: Well, not only.

Pike: Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including your mother's. And yours. I dare you to do better.

McCoy: Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence. Kirk: Well, I hate to break this to you, but Starfleet operates in space.

Barnett: In academic vernacular, you cheated. Kirk: Let me ask you something, I think we all know the answer to. The test itself is a cheat, isn't it? You programmed it to be unwinnable. Spock: Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario. Kirk: I don't believe in no-win scenarios.

Kirk: Who was that pointy-eared bastard? McCoy: I don't know, but I like him.

Uhura: And while you were well aware that I am fully qualified desires to serve on the USS Enterprise, I'm assigned to the Farragut? Spock: It was an attempt to avoid the appearance of favoritism. Uhura: No, I'm assigned to the Enterprise. Spock: Yes, I believe you are.

Pike: I'm Captain Christopher Pike. To whom am I speaking. Nero: Hi Christopher, I'm Nero.

Pike: You're blaming the Federation for something that hasn't happened. Nero: It has happened! I watched it happen! I saw it happen! Don't tell me it didn't happen!

Kirk: How do you know my name? Spock Prime: I have been, and always shall be, your friend. Kirk: Wha... oh, look... uh, I don't know you. Spock Prime: I am Spock. Kirk: Bullshit.

McCoy: Permission to speak freely, sir. Spock: I welcome it. McCoy: Do you? Okay, then. Are you out of your Vulcan mind? Are you making the logical choice, sending Kirk away? Probably, but the right one? You know, back home we got a saying, "If you're gonna ride in the Kentucky Derby, you don't leave your prize stallion in the stable." Spock: A curious metaphor, Doctor, as a stallion must first be broken before it can reach its potential.

Scott: I told him that I could not only beam a grapefruit from one planet to the adjacent planet in the same system, which is easy by the way, I could do it with a lifeform. So, I tested it on Admiral Archer's prized beagle. Kirk: Wait, I know that dog. What happened to it? Scott: I'll tell you when it reappears.

Scott: Are you from the future? Kirk: Yeah. He is, I'm not. Scott: Well that's brilliant. Do they still have sandwiches there?

Scott: The notion of transwarp beaming is like, trying to hit a bullet with a smaller bullet whilst wearing a blindfold, riding a horse.

Spock: I feel anger for the one who took mother's life. An anger I cannot control. Sarek: I believe, as she would say, do not try to. You asked me once why I married your mother. I married her because I loved her.

Spock: It appears that you have been keeping important information from me. Kirk: You'll be able to fly this thing, right? Spock: Something tells me I already have.

Nero: I know your face, from Earth's history. James T. Kirk was considered to be a great man. He went on to captain the USS Enterprise, but that was another life. A life I will deprive you of, just like I did your father.

Spock: In the face of extinction, it is only logical I resign my Starfleet commission and help rebuild our race. Spock Prime: And yet, you can be in two places at once. I urge you to remain in Starfleet. I have already located a suitable planet on which to establish a Vulcan colony. Spock, in this case, do yourself a favor. Put aside logic. Do what feels right. Since my customary farewell would appear oddly self-serving, I shall simply say good luck.

Spock Prime: Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Her ongoing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new lifeforms and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before.

#star trek #star trek 2009 #movie #chronotrek #chronological #review #chris pine #zachary quinto #zoe saldana #leonard nimoy #eric bana

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sciencespies · 5 years

Text

Why Lie Detector Tests Can't Be Trusted

https://sciencespies.com/history/why-lie-detector-tests-cant-be-trusted/

Why Lie Detector Tests Can't Be Trusted

Francis Gary Powers had his first polygraph experience right after signing up as a pilot for the CIA’s U-2 program in January 1956. In his memoir, Powers described being called into a room where he was confronted with the question,

“Any objection to taking a lie detector test?” Though I had a great many, I didn’t voice them, shaking my head. If this was a condition of the job, I’d do it. But I didn’t like it. … I had never felt so completely exposed, as if there was no privacy whatsoever. If at that moment someone had handed me a petition banning polygraphs forever from the face of the earth, I would gladly have signed it. When I was asked the last question and the straps were taken off, I vowed that never again, no matter what the circumstances, would I undergo such an insult to my integrity.”

Yet Powers would later take another polygraph test, with even higher stakes.

Powers’ case would be an uncommon one, but the polygraph was considered an essential tool in that period, for reasons that had little to do with getting to the truth. The polygraph was more of an attempted answer to a central Cold War conundrum: How could Americans fulfill their pledges to oppose an allegedly totalitarian enemy without becoming totalitarian themselves?

To square this particular circle, federal agencies, first and foremost the CIA, began using a controversial technology developed by psychologists in the early 20th century, and then refined and applied by the police and private businesses since the 1920s. Polygraph measurements—derived from changes in blood pressure, breathing depth, and skin conductivity of an electric current—have never been proved to be reliable indicators of deception. Not only is genuine emotional turmoil hard to reproduce in laboratory studies, but such emotional responses are not uniform among humans and can be imitated by countermeasures (such as pinching yourself before giving a response). In large screening tests, significant numbers of “false positives” (innocent people being labeled deceptive) are unavoidable.

In addition, the question of whether deception during a polygraph test indicates a person is unsuitable for employment transcends merely technical issues. In the final analysis, American security agencies never arrived at a definition of what personal characteristics a model employee should have. Instead, the polygraph provided reasons for dismissing a person as a security risk or denying him or her employment.

Leonarde Keeler was the first American to receive a patent for a polygraph. His patent, granted on January 13, 1931, described the machine as an “apparatus for recording arterial blood pressure.”

(U.S. Patent 1,788,434)

Bureaucratic usefulness, rather than any scientific validity, goes a long way toward explaining why the polygraph became a standard instrument of the American national security state. The case of Powers and his history with polygraphs is instructive.

From 1956 to 1960, 24 U-2 flights over the USSR yielded invaluable strategic intelligence on Soviet military capabilities. But on May 1, 1960, disaster struck when Powers’ plane was shot down over Sverdlovsk (today called Yekaterinburg). American authorities issued a cover story about a weather balloon gone astray and were caught flat-footed when Nikita Khrushchev presented to the world the remnants of the plane, and then the pilot himself. Powers had miraculously survived and was subsequently put on trial in Moscow and sentenced to 10 years in prison for espionage. In February 1962, he was exchanged for Soviet KGB colonel Vilyam Fisher (alias Rudolf Ivanovich Abel).

Powers returned home a hero under suspicion. Unbeknownst to him and the American public, doubts about his truthfulness arose due to National Security Agency intercepts of Soviet responses to the U-2 flights. Tracked radar signals indicated that Powers’ plane had dropped below its regular altitude of 65,000 feet, making it vulnerable to surface-to-air missile attacks. But Powers vehemently denied that he had allowed the plane to decline. The CIA, fearing for its then-stellar reputation with the American public, insisted on Powers’ innocence as well.

CIA director John McCone set up a board of inquiry under a federal judge, E. Barrett Prettyman, to prepare a statement for public consumption. The document highlighted that medical tests, a background check, and an interrogation had confirmed that Powers “appeared to be truthful, frank, straightforward. … He volunteered with some vehemence that, although he disliked the process of the polygraph, he would like to undergo a polygraph test. That test was subsequently duly administered by an expert. … [Powers] displayed no indications of deviation from the truth in the course of the examination.”

Contrast this with Powers’ own version of his treatment: Getting frustrated by “doubts about my responses, … I finally reacted angrily, bellowing: ‘If you don’t believe me, I’ll be glad to take a lie detector test!’ … Even before the words were out of my mouth, I regretted saying them. ‘Would you be willing to take a lie detector test on everything you have testified here?’ … I knew that I had been trapped.”

Francis Gary Powers holds a model of a U-2 spy plane as he testifies before the Senate Armed Services Committee. Powers’ plane was shot down by the Soviets, and he was tried and convicted of spying in the USSR.

(Bettmann/Getty Images)

Since shortly after its creation in 1947, the CIA has used the polygraph as part of its personnel security procedures to ascertain the truthfulness of job applicants and employees and to confirm the bona fides of agents. At the height of McCarthyism, utilizing a machine known by the public as a “lie detector” made sense, especially for a brand-new agency that had to be staffed quickly. To its proponents, the polygraph represented a promise of objectivity and fairness along with effective deterrence of spies and traitors. As a CIA inspector general report from 1963 emphasized, “We do not and could not aspire to total security. Our open society has an inherent resistance to police-state measures.”

When challenged by Congress, which investigated federal polygraph use repeatedly beginning in the mid-1960s, the CIA defended the polygraph aggressively. In 1980, the Director of Central Intelligence’s Security Committee insisted: “The utility of the polygraph interview as part of security processing has been demonstrated by empirical means. … These practical results, plus more than thirty years’ experience, make the use of the polygraph in security screening truly unique and indispensable.”

Yet internally, CIA bureaucrats admitted that the practice of sorting out job applicants and employees based on their test results was questionable at best. Even after decades of polygraph practice, the CIA could not define what exactly it meant by elusive terms such as “routine” and “voluntary” in its polygraph program. A 1974 list of questions from polygraph examiners to the general counsel included the following query: “What can a polygraph officer say in response to the question: ‘Do I have to take this test to get a job with the Agency?’ or ‘What happens if I don’t take the test?’” The relevance of the evidence produced during most polygraph tests was also unclear. “The precise yardstick for the measuring of security reliability of an individual continued to be elusive,” an internal CIA history on personnel security concluded in 1973.

Up until his death in a helicopter accident in 1977, Powers insisted that he had acted as a loyal American under trying circumstances. No definite account of the incident has been established yet. We also don’t know what data Powers’ polygraph test produced. However, it is reasonable to conclude that the Kennedy administration found it advisable to assure the public of Powers’ truthfulness, and that announcing that Powers had passed a polygraph test was part of their public relations strategy.

Powers’ experience highlights three ambiguous characteristics of polygraph use by the CIA for purposes of “national security.” First, the claim by polygraph proponents that the test could be a witness for the defense, exonerating loyal citizens, often turned out to be less than clear-cut. Second, while the polygraph relied on the rhetoric of voluntarism, in reality the pressure to take the test often mocked the idea of a free decision. Third, polygraph exams often served to provide official cover rather than revealing the truth of events.

Other questions haunted the polygraph throughout the Cold War, and the often-traumatic experience of the test provoked fierce protests from Americans across ideological lines. Journalists Joseph and Stewart Alsop, two otherwise unrelenting Cold War boosters, compared the polygraph to the embrace of an octopus whose “electric tentacles” produced an “overwhelming impulse to tell all … in order to appease the octopus machine.” Even former chief of CIA counterintelligence James Olson called polygraph exams “an awful but necessary ordeal. We all hate them. … A polygraph examination … is rude, intrusive, and sometimes humiliating. … It’s a grueling process.” Whether the sheer unpleasantness of the exam did more to deter potential traitors, or kept otherwise upstanding citizens from joining the agency, is impossible to determine.

Ultimately, there is the question of whether the polygraph ever caught Soviet spies. Certainly no major communist spy was ever caught by the machine, and the most damaging one, Aldrich Ames, passed two routine polygraph exams after he had delivered deadly information about U.S. activities in the Soviet Union to his handlers.

While the Ames case almost fatally damaged the polygraph’s reputation, the technology was rekindled in the wake of the 9/11 attacks and the subsequent wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, because, once again, it gave the appearance of a scientific way to test such elusive values as loyalty when doing the inherently risky jobs of screening employees and counterintelligence work. As the history of the polygraph makes clear, American policy makers place great trust in technological fixes to thorny political problems—even though they themselves question those fixes privately.

John Baesler is a professor of history at Saginaw Valley State University and the author of Clearer Than Truth: The Polygraph and the American Cold War.

#History

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undothedamage-blog · 7 years

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Dear Parents

Hi. How ya doing? Being a parent is weird and hard and rewarding, right? That’s been my experience anyhow. Most of us are trying to do the best we can. There’s a lot expected of us. There’s a lot of pressure in raising a tiny human without fucking up. And I hate to add to your growing list of duties and concerns and necessary steps in raising a happy, healthy person but there’s something really important you need to do.

Teach your children what abuse looks like.

Now, the hardest part about doing that is actually going to be learning yourself what abuse looks like.

“I know what abuse is!” you say.

Sorry. You probably don’t. Statistically speaking, I’m more likely addressing somebody on the other side of the screen that hasn’t been properly educated on the realities of abuse. We’re fed a lot of myths about abuse. You don’t have to be ashamed because society failed to teach you right. It’s not your fault, but it is your responsibility to correct that error now.

I would suggest you sit down with a copy of Why Does He Do That? (my favorite book so far on the topic written by one of the world’s foremost experts). I know, I know. You’re busy. You’re stretched thin. You probably already lack time to read for pleasure as much as you did before you have kids and now some rando on the internet is assigning you fucking homework? But trust me, it’s worth it.

After that, teach your kids. Teach them what abuse looks like. Teach your sons especially what constitutes abuse and that there is no excuse to justify it and that they alone are responsible for their actions.

How?

There’s lots of ways (and a lot depends on their age). But here’s a list of suggestions:

Don’t ever force your children to hug or kiss someone if they don’t want to, not even Grandma, not even YOU. This teaches them bodily autonomy and that not even loved ones are entitled to violate their boundaries.

Make comments or ask questions about media you consume together to get them to think critically about the ideas presented to them. This might mean saying “hmmm, I wonder why there are so few girls in this movie.” or asking “How do you think [character a] felt when [character b] wouldn’t take no for an answer?” This can be a hard step because you’ll need to train yourself to spot problematic content in the first place. And I’m not saying you can’t watch anything problematic (you might as well give up TV altogether). Just challenge your kids to think about what they see. i.e. If you’re watching Batman the Animated Series you could say “I really don’t like the way Joker treats Harley Quinn. Do you think she deserves that?”

Acquire (whether by purchasing or borrowing from a library) positive representation of women and relationships for your children including (and perhaps especially) your sons. The publishing and media industries only market girl-centric stories to female audiences which contributes to boys growing up learning that stories and the world revolve around them. They also tend to only push media that deals with interpersonal relations and emotions on girls, leaving boys with action and violence heavy stories. This can send the message that empathy and emotional labor is for girls.

Talk to them, especially older kids and teenagers, particularly when they reach dating age. Invite them to ask questions and talk about their opinions about abuse to get them engaged in the conversation rather than simply lecturing. Take advantage of a captive audience (riding in the car for example) and teach them little bits here and there on a regular basis.

Respect your children and allow them reasonable control over their own lives. I’m not saying you should let your kid decide, “nah, I hate shots. I’m skipping my vaccinations.” But you should definitely give them the power of choice as often as you can. Maybe that means letting them dropping soccer for theatre or picking between two options for dinner’s side veggie. The important thing is they are raised in an environment that doesn’t predispose them to accepting total control from someone else.

Model healthy relationship dynamics in your own romantic relationship if you have one. This is especially important for dads. Even if you’re not abusive, you may engage in behavior that is based on the same underlying attitudes and entitlement that fuels abuse because society has taught you that it’s all right. It’s on YOU and you alone to recognize and fix that.

Set hard and fast rules in your home regarding respect of women. Don’t allow your kids, especially your sons, to use misogynist language (shut down anything that labels women as inherently crazy or inferior, don’t condone the use of words like bitch or cunt, etc.). And no matter how awkward you feel, make sure you talk to them about the unrealistic and misogynist aspects of most pornography (when age appropriate).

Learn and utilize appropriate parenting tools especially regarding punishment vs. consequence, assertive vs. authoritarian parenting, and similar issues to avoid falling into abusive parenting patterns. How To Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk, Siblings Without Rivalry, Unconditional Parenting, and many other wonderful books will help you raise emotionally healthy kids with strong self esteem. Remember, there is no shame in seeking education to learn to how parent. It’s a skill like any other and nobody is born knowing how to do it right. But the old joke about wishing there was a parenting manual handed out when you have a baby? It’s only half true. There’s plenty of quality manuals (and unfortunately some shit ones too, so watch out). But you have to go get them yourself.

Insist the men and boys in your household participate equally in housework. To do otherwise reinforces the idea that men are entitled to have women take care of even their most basics needs (like a clean home or clean laundry or food to eat). Teaching your daughters to do an oil change and use a power drill is wonderful and great and you should do that too. But it’s arguably even more important to make sure you teach your sons not only how to clean, cook, manage a budget, do the grocery shopping, care for babies, etc. but that is expected of them just as much as it is of any woman.

Insist upon comprehensive sex ed programs that cover topics of consent, bodily autonomy, respect, and partner abuse. If your local schools don’t provide them, check for community offerings (the O.W.L. program offered at many Unitarian Churches is one such program and don’t worry, it’s secular). If there’s nothing available, take it into your own hands. Talk to your kids about this stuff and provide them appropriate books and resources on the topic.

Do your best. You won’t be perfect. No parent ever is. But if you try and if you never give up, you’ll more than likely succeed in raising kids that not only aren’t abusive, but that will not be drawn into an abusive relationship.

That said...

If you have teen or adult children you may very well face a situation in which they have either been abused, or accused of abusing someone else. What do you do then? Well, that first book I mentioned (Why Does He Do That?) lays out in detail exactly what family members should and shouldn’t do in these situations. But I’ll give you a quick and dirty summary:

If your child is facing abuse:

Believe them. And don’t blame them.

Don’t pressure them. Don’t pressure them to give their abuser another chance NOR should you pressure them to leave their abuser.

Listen to their needs and offer your support.

Give them the respect that their abuser won’t.

Get yourself support so that you can vent your sorrows and concerns to somebody else instead of burdening the abuse victim with comforting you.

When possible, and only if the victim agrees, offer practical support (such as paying for her to go to therapy, driving her to appointments, etc.).

If you child has been accused of abuse:

Believe the victim. Chances are they are telling the truth. When your child makes excuses for their behavior or tries to downplay it, press them on it for details and to describe what they think is their partner’s point of view on the matter. This will often reveal that they are exaggerating and/or lying and that they have not been honestly listening to or empathizing with their partner. Then make sure to talk to the victim and get her side of the story.

Do not make excuses for your child. Do not ask the victim to forgive them or give them another chance. Make it clear to your child that you will not participate in talk in which their victim is blamed or dehumanized or otherwise insulted.

Make it clear that you expect your child to get into a reputable abuser program (Lundy Bancroft describes what to look for to make sure it’s a good program in his book). Do not tell them to go to therapy or couple’s therapy. Only a program designed to address abuse will do any good and even then, only if the abuser chooses to do the long, hard work of changing. Conventional therapy can often make the situation even worse.

And in either case, avoid provoking the abuser. Chances are the abuser will take it out on their victim in private rather than risk damage to their reputation with you by lashing out at you.

#parenting #talking about abuse #raising kids #teaching kids about abuse #preventing abuse #lundy bancroft #why does he do that #helping abuse victims #teaching consent #sexism

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alexsmitposts · 5 years

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North American, European Public: Finally Wake Up, Damn It! Year after year, month after month, I see two sides of the world; two extremes which are getting more and more disconnected: I see great cities like Homs in Syria, reduced to horrifying ruins. I see Kabul and Jalalabad in Afghanistan, fragmented by enormous concrete walls intended to protect NATO occupation armies and their local puppets. I see monstrous environmental devastation in places such as Indonesian Borneo, Peruvian gold mining towns, or the by now almost uninhabitable atoll island-nations of Oceania: Tuvalu, Kiribati or Marshall Islands. I see slums, a lack of sanitation and clean drinking water, where the boots of Western empires have been smashing local cultures, enslaving people and looting natural resources. I work on all the continents. I never stop, even when exhaustion tries to smash me against the wall, even when there are hardly any reserves left. I cannot stop; I have no right to stop, because I can finally see the pattern; the way this world operates, the way the West has been managing to usurp it, indoctrinate, and enslave most of the countries of the world. I combine my knowledge, and publish it as a ‘warning to the world’. I write books about this ‘pattern’. My most complete, so far, being the 1,000 pages long “Exposing Lies of The Empire”. Then, I see the West itself. I come to ‘speak’, to Canada and the United States, as well as Europe. Once in a while I am invited to address Australian audiences, too. The West is so outrageously rich, compared to the ruined and plundered continents, that it often appears that it does not belong to the Planet Earth. A lazy Sunday afternoon stroll in Villa Borghese in Rome, and a horror walk through Mathare slum in Nairobi could easily exist in two distinct realities, or in two different galaxies. Even now, after I slightly misspelled “Villa Borghese”, my Mac immediately offered a correction. It is because Villa Borghese does exist. On the other hand, “Mathare”, which I spelled correctly, was underlined red. Mathare ‘is an error’. Because it does not exist. It does not exist, despite the fact that around one million men, women and children lives there. It is not recognized by my MacBook Pro, nor by the great majority of my relatively well-educated readers in the West. In fact, almost entire world appears to be one big error, non-entity, if observed from New York, Berlin or Paris. I come and speak in front of the Western public. Yes, I do it from time to time, although with decreasing frequency. Frankly, to face European or North American crowds feels depressing, even humiliating. It goes like this: you are invited to ‘tell the truth’; to present what you are witnessing all over the world. You stand there, facing men and women who have just arrived in their comfortable cars, after having good dinners in their well-heated or air-conditioned homes. You may be a famous writer and a filmmaker, but somehow, they make you feel like a beggar. Because you came to speak on behalf of “beggars”. Everything is well-polished, and choreographed. It is expected that you do not show any ‘gore’. That you do not call your public ‘names’. That you do not swear, do not get drunk on the stage, do not start insulting everyone in sight. What you usually face is quite a hard, or at least ‘hardened’, crowd. Recently, in Southern California, when I was asked, by a fellow philosopher and a friend of mine, to address a small gathering of his colleagues, some people were banging on their mobile phones, as I was describing the situation at the Syrian frontline, near Idlib. I felt that my account was nothing more than a ‘background, an elevator music’ to most of them. At least when I am addressing millions through my television interviews, I do not have to see the public. When you ‘speak’ in the West, you are actually addressing men and women who are responsible, at least partially, for the mass murders and genocides that are being committed by their countries. Men and women whose standards of living are outrageously high, because The Others are being robbed, humiliated, and often raped. But their eyes are not humble; they are drilling them into you, waiting for some mistake that you might make, so they can conclude: “He is fake news”. For them, you are not a bridge between those who ‘exist’ and those who don’t. For them, you are an entertainer, a showman, or more often than not: a nuisance. To learn about war, about the terror that the West is spreading, is, for many in my audience yet another type of luxury, high-level entertainment, not unlike an opera performance or a symphony concert. If necessary, they can even pay, although mostly they’d rather not. After a titillating experience, it is back to the routine, back to a sheltered, elegant life. While you, the next day, are often catching a plane back to the reality of the others; to the frontline, to dust and misery. They, your public (but face it, also most of your readers) came to show how ‘open-minded’ they are. They came ‘to learn’ from you, ‘to get educated’, while keeping their lifestyles intact. Most of them think that they know it all, even without your first-hand experience, they are benevolently doing you a favor by inviting you, and by dragging themselves all the way to some university or a theatre or wherever the hell you are standing in front of them. They did not come to offer any support to your struggle. They are not part of any struggle. They are good, peace-loving, hardworking people; that’s all. You know, like those Germans, in the late 1930’s; self-righteous, hard-working folks. Most of them love their pets, and recycle their garbage. And clean after themselves at Starbucks. A few days ago, we stopped the coup in Venezuela. I say we, because, although deep in devastated Borneo Island, I had been giving interviews to RT, Press TV, addressing millions. Even here, I never stopped writing, tweeting, always ready to drop everything just fly to Caracas, if I were to be needed there. To defend Venezuela, to defend the Revolution there, is essential. As it is essential to defend Syria, Cuba, Russia, China, North Korea, Iran, Bolivia, South Africa and other revolutionary and brave nations that are refusing to surrender to the Western diktat. While the ideological battle for Caracas was raging, I was thinking: is there anything that could still move the Western public into action? Have they – Europeans and North Americans – become totally indifferent to their own crimes? Have they developed some sort of emotional immunity? Is their condition ideological, or simply clinical? Here we were, in the middle of a totally open coup; an attempt by the West to overthrow one of the most democratic countries on our planet. And they did almost nothing to stop the terrorism performed by their regimes in Washington or Madrid! At least in Indonesia in 1965 or in Chile in 1973, the Western regime tried to hide behind thin fig leaves. At least, while destroying socialist Afghanistan and the Communist Soviet Union by creating the Mujahedin, the West used Pakistan as a proxy, trying to conceal, at least partially, its true role. At least, while killing more than 1 million people in Iraq, there was this charade and bunch of lies about the ‘weapons of mass destruction’. At least, at least… Now, it is all transparent. In Syria, Venezuela; and against North Korea, Cuba, Iran, China, Russia. As if propaganda was not even needed, anymore, it as if the Western public has become totally obedient, posing no threat to the plans of the Western regime. Or more precisely, the once elaborate Western propaganda has become extremely simple: it now repeats lies, and the great majority of Western citizens do not even bother to question what their governments are doing to the world. The only thing that matters are ‘domestic issues’; meaning – the wages and benefits for the Westerners. There are no riots like during the Vietnam War. Now riots are only for the better welfare of European workers. No one in the West is fighting in order to stop the plunder abroad, or the terrorist attacks unleashed by NATO against non-Western countries, or against those countless NATO military bases, against the invasions and orchestrated coups. How much more can the Western public really stomach? Or can it stomach absolutely everything? Would it accept the direct invasion of Venezuela or Cuba or both? It has already accepted the direct intervention and destruction of Yugoslavia, Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya and Syria, to name just a few terrorist actions committed by the West in recent history. So, how much more? Would an attack against Iran be acceptable? Let’s say, 2-3 million deaths? North Korea, perhaps? A few more millions, a new mountain of corpses? I am asking; it is not a rhetorical question. I really want to know. I believe that the world has to know. Has the Western public reached the level of the ISIS (or call them IS or Deash)? Is it so self-righteous, so fanatic, so convinced of its own exceptionalism, that it cannot think, clearly, analyze and judge, anymore? Would provoking Russia or China or both into WWIII be acceptable to people living in Bavaria or South Carolina, or Ontario? And if yes, are they all really out of their minds? And if they are, should the world try to stop the, and how? I want to know the boundaries of the Western madness. That there is madness is indisputable, but how massive is it? I understand, I have now accepted the monstrous fact that the French, Yanks, Canadians, Brits or Germans do not give a shit about how many millions of innocent people they kill in the Middle East, or Southeast Asia, Africa or in ‘places like that’. I accept that they know close to nothing about their colonial history, and want to know nothing, as long as they have football, plenty of meat and 6 weeks vacations on exotic beaches. I know that even many of those who can see monstrous crimes committed by the West, want to blame everything on Rothschilds and ‘Zionist conspiracy’, but never on themselves, never on their culture which expresses itself through the centuries of plunder. But what about the survival of our planet, and the survival of humankind? I imagine the eyes of those people who come to my ‘combat presentations’. I tell them the truth. I say it all. I am never holding back; never compromise. I show them images of the wars they have unleashed. Yes, they; because the citizens are responsible for their own governments, and because there is, clearly, something called collective guilt and collective responsibility! Those eyes, faces… I will tell you what I read in them: they will never act. They will never try to overthrow their regime. As long as they live their privileged lives. As long as they think that the system in which they are the elites, at least has some chance of surviving in its present form. They play it both ways, some of them do: verbally, they are outraged by NATO, by Western imperialism and savage capitalism. Practically, they do nothing tangible to fight the system. What is the conclusion then? If they do not act, then others have to. And I am convinced: they will. For more than 500 years the entire world has been in flames, plundered and murdered by a small group of extremely aggressive Western nations. This has been going on virtually uninterruptedly. Nobody finds it amusing, anymore. Where I work, in places that I care about, nobody wants this kind of world. Look at those countries that are now trying to destroy Venezuela. Look closely! They consist of the United States, Canada, majority of Europe, and mostly those South American states where the descendants of European colonialists are forming majority! Do we want another 500 years of this? North Americans and Europeans have to wake up, soon. Even in Nazi Germany, there were soldiers who were so disgusted with Hitler, that they wanted to send him to the dogs. Today, in the West, there is not one powerful political party which believes that 500 years of Western colonialist plunder is more than enough; that torturing the world should stop, and stop immediately. If Western imperialism, which is the greatest and perhaps the only major threat our planet is now facing, is not decisively and soon dismantled by its own citizens, it will have to be fought and deterred by external forces. That is: by its former and present victims. https://journal-neo.org/2019/06/06/north-american-european-public-finally-wake-up-damn-it/

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shermainnewolfowl · 7 years

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The non-sense relation between Schizophrenia and Liberalism

Who consider him/herself “liberal” isn´t necessarily schizophrenic.

Actually, it is possible that a schizophrenic conceive a better world defending a liberal or authoritarian or communist or democratic or dictatorial or monarchical or whatever conception, as an absolute truth. However no-one of those ideologies implies schizophrenia. This mental disorder is a genetic problem, not a cause or result of any particular ideology. Although, it´s also possible that propaganda from one ideology against other, try to make it looks like a disease, mental disorder, etc. because it´s an effective way of avoiding new militants to that counter-side ideology.

A relevant difference between Liberalism and Debauchery.

Being Liberal is about being able to decide. Decide about yourself, about who you are, what you want to be, what you want to do, what you want to achieve... Is about the freedom to choose. Now, there´s such an extremely important difference between Freedom and Debauchery. Debauchery is about do whatever you want without caring the limits, consequences or possible damages it could generate to others. However, Freedom is about doing whatever you want to do while you are not hurting or making any damage to others. In other words, the difference lies in the responsibility (freedom) and irresponsibility (debauchery) which doesn´t consider any possible damage or consequence to others.

Sodomy and homosexual conducts don´t go against anything in human biology.

Each human being is free of making love with whoever each one want and how ever manner want, always and only if the other person knows and is agree of doing it and on the way both want. Now, transgender conducts (actually, just the fact of operation) modify the body of the transgender, of course, however, it belongs to the personal decision of each other. If there´re people who aren´t agree with this kind of intervention, it´s completely understandable and respectable, but whether there´re people who desire to change their physiological gender then, who are we to criticize, humiliate or impose by law that they can´t? That´s about each one decisions, each one body, therefore each one responsibility.

Responses for some comments:

1) “Also crying and hitting aggressively over anyone disagreeing with the liberal postulates”.

Actually the reason people of any ideology, not just liberals, get crazy on that kind of comments (I am not justifying those ones who do it), is because of the lack of arguments and the strong provoking comments like this one. Homosexual, bisexual, transgender, etc don´t “cry” because they listen a different postulate, actually they don´t cry for that non-sense things but they regret those comments because it humiliates and segregates them, trying to make them look like if they are a cancer or society´s parasites and they aren´t. Actually they are Human Beings, with the exactly great potential of heterosexuals to become a great contribution to our societies like Michael Foucault, Leonardo da Vinci, Sofia Vasilyevna Kovalevskaya, Isaac Newton, Oscar Wilde, etc.

2) “Liberals all around the world (not only in America) are willing to support politicians, that support terrorism, war and the destruction of other countries cultures just because their speech was full of love, tolerance, and democracy euphemisms”.

This isn´t true at all. Firstly, not all liberal are willing to support those things. Secondly, the problem is not just of liberal ideology, it´s about the international system politics dynamic. It´s about Power and how to keep it. It´s about how do great superpower behave on the international system. When we are talking about the international system, necessarily we need to talk about the most powerful countries. It´s impossible to deny that some countries (one in particular) has invaded others, looking for some resources that they need with the excuse of protection of Human Rights, Democracy and all this stuff. However, all powerful countries have done it. USA, Russia, UK, Germany, France, China… each country have their own rules, their own interests and their own political and ideological regimes. Everyone, doesn´t matter which one but every regimen, tend to look for the maximization of their power. Intervention is a quickly answer to achieve it, particularly when you´re a super power State. I´m Not justifying this action, but that´s how it works in politics. And not only “democratic” societies make interventions. Absolute and totalitarian governments also do it invoking principles and values of security, self-defense, State-Reason, etc. In other words, authoritarian, absolute, and in some cases, totalitarian governments make exactly the same of those “democratic” societies, with the only difference that their speeches aren´t about tolerance and democracy, but about security, nationalism, etc. and both, democratic and authoritarian governments make it because that´s a demand of Power and their own government. The questions is: is rightly to intervene other countries using or not using a love, tolerance and democracy speeches to legitimate it? In other words, is sincerity an enough reason to justify interventions?

3) “Basically all the liberal beliefs are false and are based on fallacies. For example, a liberal always believes he is tolerant, yet he can't tolerate the people that liberalism says are intolerant, therefore he is intolerant.”

Definitely would be useful a description of “all the liberal beliefs” which “are false and based on fallacies”. Personally I do believe that this is a personal prejudice, not a real argument. However, the following example isn´t true at all. It´s hard to hear and respect different opinions from us, this applies to every human being. However, a lot of liberals are able to listen different opinions from their ideology and still respect their critic. And this is an example, if all liberals were intolerant, difficulty anyone had replied all the behind arguments on a respectful manner. We should have in mind that one thing is being in disagreed or criticize and other is to insult or provoke others with unnecessary prejudice comments.

4) “When the liberal rhetoric is confronted to the facts that prove their rhetoric is false, the liberals often collapse into a tantrum and will start insulting with words like "racist" "homophobic" "sexist" "misogynist" and other names. Also considering themselves as communists, when if they were living in the USSR, China, or North Korea they wouldn't last an hour without being thrown into an forced labour camp.”

The first sentence, is just a personal prejudice. I can´t consider it like an argument. And the second one, it´s contradictory that a liberal consider itself a communist because of the implicit restriction of liberty of comunism. It´s the absolute control of the State about the resources, rights, conditions etc. that each citizen can get or not, and in which amount, therefore it doesn´t make too much sense.

5) “believing in politicians of the likes of Obama, Merkel, Poroshenko, Navalny, Hilary, Bernie Sanders, etc. And corporate media outlets like CNN, Buzzfeed, Huffington Post, Washington post, etc. Which everyone knows are compulsive liars”.

Well, that´s true, social media, particularly those programmes are activated with the aim to serve some political and economic interests, that´s undeniable. However, there´s missing other media like RT for example. All of them aren´t free of those kind of powerful interests which support and hold them on. Therefore, I do believe that the most recommendable to do with all media information is to confront them. The same fact, the same issue, compare it with different sources of information and get your own conclusion. It won´t stop the manipulated information, but at least might give you a higher level of view about each topic.

6) “The constant need for safe spaces.” Referring the “reduced social engagement”.

This is logical, human beings are complex and our inner conflicts are always difficult to deal with. This is because of the permanent tension between a desire of construction, values, principles, etc. and our desires of destruction, misconduct, etc. it´s like the tension between common-wellbeing and self-wellbeing which show themselves out on our relationships. I do not believe that the problem is caused by the liberalism, actually I believe that is caused by the nature of human being, their conditions and the invisible but already established system as a result of our behaviours and ways of thinking.

7) “Usually liberals specially feminists, lack control over their body, having an extreme disorder with food.”

I´m not sure that Emma Watson for example, who is a liberal and feminist, has that “extreme disorder with food”. But well, I think that this is another personal prejudice and not a meaningful argument. And it´s neither true that feminist are ugly. This is a lack of respect actually. I do consider that debates should be on topics which help to improve the conditions of human beings, not on how do people look like or whether they are ugly or not like life were a permanent model competence. Actually, is contradictory that those ones who most criticize and hate capitalism, are those ones who choose their couples according to their physical appearance and not because of their love, personality or more meaningful characteristics, however, everyone has a different conception of coherence I think.

8) “Snowflakes constantly cry if they don't get what they want. And then post on social media how "depressed" they are over that issue, pretending the world cares.”

There´s something called Emotional Intelligence. Just ignores that kind of people. When they feel loneliness, they will look for a way to feel better (in they love themselves) and if not, then they should ask help. Therefore, just don´t pay attention to them, if they ask you help, then do want you can, but have in mind that the problem is of them. We should help people if they ask it, but it doesn´t mean that we have to hold their problems as well. It´s enough with the own personal problems therefore, just leave them ask help.

9) “Also as having issues with food. These people constantly consume high amounts of alcohol and other recreational drugs to escape from their responsibilities and reality”.

Societies are becoming even more complex than before. Systems are complex, have different dimensions, colours, shades, etc. World is not going to become a paradise; however we should keep trying to contributing positively to our world even if we are not going to be able to see them.

10) “spoiled little brats that can't deal with adolescence”

A teacher said once: “usually the most aggressive and misconducted people are like that because they´re empty inside, because of a lack of affection, a lack of Love”. I do believe that the greatest problems, before and nowadays is about the missing of Love, not about the political, economic or social ideologies.

Conclusion, Liberalism isn´t a mental disorder.

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